


Save Me

by abusing_sarcasm (Camden)



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-10
Updated: 2012-01-10
Packaged: 2017-10-29 07:31:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 30,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/317315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Camden/pseuds/abusing_sarcasm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Married, closeted, and old before his time, Dave rolls the dice on a chance to do things differently, to live the life he was meant to live.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Save Me

_Sometimes magic happens through ancient rites, glowing crystals, magic wands, or unicorns. Sometimes it happens via Craigslist._

 

Dave can pinpoint the exact moment that he realized his life was complete and utter shit. The term 'rock bottom' usually describes something much more dramatic, like punching a cop or sucking dick for crack. Dave's rock bottom creeps in slowly one morning when he wakes up with a hangover and his wife looming over him.

"You didn't get home until three in the morning. I know because you woke me up stumbling around like an idiot."

She doesn't even sound angry. She just sounds resigned, like she's grown used to his behavior. He remembers when she used the yell at him, and somehow the resignation is worse.

"I gotta go. There's cereal in the pantry."

He watches her walk to the bedroom door, the ugly green fabric of her work shirt assaulting his eyeballs. Her brown hair is a little tangled in the back and he remembers when she used to take the time to braid it or curl it or twist it up with clippy things.

"Hey, Angie," he calls, and she turns to look at him. "Brush your hair. It looks like shit."

She grimaces, but he hears her go into the bathroom. He should apologize, he thinks. She doesn't deserve to take his bullshit when she's about to work a double shift at the gas station.

Shame hits him like it always does when he thinks of her sitting at the counter in that drab place, selling cigarettes to teenagers with fake IDs and talking idiots through using the pay-at-the-pump. He ought to be able to provide for his own wife, for fuck's sake. Unfortunately, the construction company he works for is going through a dry spell right now, losing bids left and right, and they need Angie's paycheck to cover the mortgage.

He waits until he hears the back door close before he rolls out of bed and goes into the bathroom. He looks at himself in the mirror critically. He looks disgusting, like always.

He could have stuck with drywalling, which at least provided _some_ exercise, but he'd started driving the crane about ten years back, and now he looks like he sits on his ass all day, which he does. His belly is big enough that he can't even suck it in anymore. It's just always there, a flabby reminder of how far he's fallen.

He's not _bald_ , but his hair is noticeably thin on top and his hairline is creeping back at a steady pace. His face is haggard, with a sickly gray tinge, probably from the hangover. Or from the fact that his stubble is starting to go silvery.

He's old. Old and fat and pathetic. He's turning forty-two in a few months, but he looks older than that. He's got hardly any friends to speak of. He's got credit card debt up to his eyeballs. He's never cheated on his wife, but he thinks about guys damn near every time he jerks off, even though he tries to pretend like he doesn't. And his wife has given up on him ever being anything but a Lima loser, even though they live in Zanesville now, which isn't much of an improvement.

He looks at himself again and realizes that _he_ has given up on being anything but a Lima loser.

That's his rock bottom.

And the fact that he's hit rock bottom explains why he does something so colossally stupid not even an hour later.

After he's shaved off his graying stubble and showered, he makes himself a bowl of cereal and sits down in front of their crappy old computer, intending to check the want ads online. He's sure it'll be the same as when he'd looked last night, but their checking account is getting dangerously low and he needs to make some money.

It's the same old story – no one is hiring – so he pulls up Craigslist. It's an antiquated site now, a vestige of a bygone era, but some people still use it, mostly for sleazy anonymous hookups. He's gone through the men-seeking-men ads so many times, so sorely tempted, but he's never allowed himself to do anything more than look. Regardless, it's still a good place to make a few bucks in the past doing home repairs or odd jobs. Last winter, he'd gotten so desperate that he'd taken on some jobs shoveling snow. It's not something he'd ever brag about, but honest money is honest money.

He's clicking through the "Help Wanted" section dispassionately, ignoring the obvious scams and trying to find something that's worth his time, when he sees a strange ad titled, _Hey! David! Wake Up!_. He clicks on it before he can think about it.

It reads: _Fed up with your life? Wish you could change things? Stuck in your own personal hell? You're not alone! We've helped hundreds of people fix their present by revisiting their past. Right those old wrongs and achieve the life you deserve! Our rates are reasonable. Contact Vera at 555-PAST today. Don't wait any longer. You're not getting any younger, any slimmer, any richer, or any closer to the love life you want by sitting on your behind in front of a computer, David. ;)_

The winky face should be enough to put him off, but... His _name_... He shakes his head. It's obviously garbage. Some past-life regression bullshit where some woman in a flowing dress will 'hypnotize' you by waving a pocket watch around, you wake up thinking you used to be Cleopatra's pet bunny and it fixes your life. And they probably just pick a random name – David is certainly common enough – and they hope that some loser will think that there's some _magic_ at work.

It's ridiculous. For every guy named David who sees this, there must be hundreds of people named Paul or Susan or Frank who wonder why the heck there's an ad addressing them as 'David' on Craigslist. It's just a silly coincidence.

But even though he knows that, he's re-reading the ad before he can click away. He _isn't_ getting any younger or slimmer or richer, but those are worries that apply to most people. And the love life, thing, well... He _is_ married. He and Angie get along just fine most of the time, when money isn't an issue. And when he can get it up for her.

Grimacing, he snatches his cell phone off the desk and dials the number before he can think better of it.

"Hello, David. I knew you would call."

Dave almost drops the phone before he realizes, duh, caller ID. Modern technology – letting faux psychics fuck with people since the late nineties.

"I don't know why I'm even –"

"David, this is your fate. Look around yourself," the voice says. It sounds like an older woman, and her voice is surprisingly businesslike. No affected accent or spooky quavering. "You're far from satisfied with your lot in life, yes?"

"That would apply to anyone who'd be desperate enough to call this number," Dave points out drily, wondering why he hasn't hung up yet. "Tell me something I don't know."

"I know you'd be happier if you'd married _him_ instead of Angela."

Dave does drop the phone then. He scrabbles for it, snatching it back to his ear. "Who is this?!" he demands, his heart pounding. She'd said 'him,' like she knows something specific, and he tries to run through a list of people who could qualify. There was that guy that he worked with, a few years back, the one who offered to blow him when they were both a little drunk, and Dave had been so tempted, but had stammered that he was married and the subject had never come up again.

Or the dude from the first construction job he'd landed, the one who'd been straight as an arrow, but Dave had had the hots for him _so badly_ that he'd been afraid he'd give himself away with the staring.

"I'm talking about Kurt," the woman says, and Dave can't breathe for a second.

 _Kurt_. He hadn't considered Kurt because he won't even allow _himself_ to think about him, so he's definitely never breathed a word to anyone else. The woman sounds too old to be one of his former classmates from McKinley, but some people are pretty good at changing their voices.

"Who _is_ this?" he asks again, intending it to come out as vaguely threatening, but even to his own ears, his voice sounds plaintive and scared.

"My name is Vera, and I can help you."

She gives him an address on Pine Street, easy enough to find, and then she hangs up. She doesn't tell him when to come, but he's already putting his shoes on. Maybe she knew that.

He shakes his head. No, there's no way some crazy woman can see inside his head – can see his _past_. Just. No.

He's only going because something very bad is afoot. Someone out there _knows_. He'd often worried that maybe there had been someone lurking in the locker room that day, someone who had seen things and would tell on him. Just because it never came out in high school, well... Although, it is very strange to think that someone's been lying in wait all this time to, what? Blackmail him? Good luck. He's got shit to his name.

Unless they want some drywall hung, they're barking up the wrong tree.

He's going to check it out, though, because the whole thing is fucked up to the max, and he's not going to just let it go. Not once she said... that name.

Even in the face of weirdness, he's not going to let his mind go there. He closes himself off, forcing his brain to focus only on the tasks of finding his keys and making sure he has his wallet. He takes out the last remaining credit card that doesn't have a negative balance and sticks it in the junk drawer next to their check book, just in case.

Angie has their ATM card and he's got less than thirty bucks in his wallet, so if he's walking into some kind of hold-up, they're not going to get much.

Satisfied that he's safe enough, he goes out to the broken down Festiva, parked to the side of the garage. Angie had taken the 'good' car, and he prays the old Ford starts.

It does, and he drives carefully, hyper-aware of his surroundings, mostly just because he can't let his mind wander. Bad thoughts could creep in.

When he gets to the right block, he parallel parks and starts down the street. He walks back and forth past it three times before he spots it, a tiny door sandwiched in between two buildings that has nothing on it but the street address. He tries the door and it's unlocked. It opens directly to a flight of stairs without even enough space for a doormat.

Dave climbs to the top and finds himself in a tiny sort of loft that doesn't look supernatural in the least. It contains a bunch of overstuffed chairs and a couch with flowers all over it, and there are pictures everywhere. The entire back wall is literally covered with pictures, from baseboards to ceiling.

"Satisfied customers," a voice says, and Dave whirls to see a friendly-looking older woman. She is as ordinary as the room, dressed in blue pants and a yellow shirt with blue and purple flowers on it. It looks like the kind of outfit his grandma used to wear, and it's not at all what he'd expect of a... psychic? Hypnotist? Past life regressionist? He's not sure what her claim is.

"Sit down, dear. I'm here to help. I could hear you calling for it. You were practically screaming." She makes an airy gesture as if Dave should be able to see his phantom screams hanging between them. Shivering a little, Dave sits on the flowered couch.

"Would you like tea?" she asks, messing with a hot plate.

"No thank you," Dave says. "Listen, I don't have money. I can't pay you for whatever it is you're offering. I should just go."

She turns around, teacup in hand. "Luckily for you, I'm running a one-day special. Twenty-seven dollars."

Dave pats his pocket, but his wallet is still in there. Containing exactly twenty-seven dollars.

"I'm not in this for the money, David," she says, settling in the chair across from him. "People call out to me and I come. That's how it's always worked."

"I didn't call," he protests, but she waves her hand again.

"Are you interested in my services, David? There are plenty of people who need me. I won't waste my time if you don't."

"I'm still not sure what you're offering," Dave says, twisting his hands together in his lap. He can't believe he's about to give this woman his last twenty-seven bucks, but he is. He already knows it. He knew it when he got in the car. Hell, he knew it when he read the ad.

It's how he knows this is his rock bottom.

"I have the ability to send you back in time. Once you're there, you'll have three hundred hours to change what you need to change. You may choose your starting point. You needn't know the exact date or time, but the more detail you can give, the better. You mustn't tell _anyone_ about this conversation or the magic I used or the spell will be broken and your efforts wasted. You will arrive back here with nothing changed. Provided you follow this rule, once your three hundred hours is up, you'll return to the present day."

"What happens in the present day?" Dave croaks, his throat dry.

"Well, if you've done all you need to do, theoretically, you'll have the life you desire. I must warn you, though. Not everyone awakes in the life they want. Some people have changed things for the worse. It all depends on you, though. What you do to change your life."

His breathing is coming hard and fast. He shouldn't believe a word of this, but his heart is already racing as he thinks of the possibilities. He tries to do some quick mental calculations. Three hundred hours is about twelve days or so. Not quite two weeks. There's a lot that can happen in twelve days.

With trembling hands, he pulls out his wallet and extracts the cash. "I know where I want to go. I want to go back to the day I kissed Kurt," he says, extending the bills. "That morning. Before school. Is that specific enough? I'm sorry, but I don't remember the date."

"That's specific enough," she says, putting the money in the pocket of her slacks. She leans forward, reaching for his hands. "Now just listen to my voice."

As he concentrates on breathing in and out, she starts speaking. It's not in English, he knows that much, but he imagines he can understand it. It's half song, half chant, and the words wash over him. He starts to get dizzy and the room goes a little dim. All he can see in front of him is a pair of hands, deceptively smooth for an older woman, squeezing his fingers tightly.

He closes his eyes and falls.

~*~

 _Day One_

Dave wakes up with a splitting headache. The sun is searing his retinas and he groans. Another late night at the bar, clearly. "Angie," he croaks. There's no answer. "Hey, Ang! Grab me some aspirin."

He still doesn't get an answer, so he rolls over to see if she's still asleep. And he nearly falls out of the bed. He sits up with a start, pressing his hand to his aching head. "Oh holy fuck," he whispers, looking at the room. He'd know it anywhere, but he'd forgotten the details, of course.

Now it's all here in crystal clarity – the posters of bands that have since become obscure, sports stars who are long retired where he's supposed to be. A twin bed with a ratty army blanket and a desk covered with crumpled homework assignments and empty plates.

He stands up and rushes to look at himself in the small mirror over the dresser. Gone are the paunch and the receding hairline and the look of defeat. He looks _young_. Handsome and vibrant and _alive_.

He touches his face, hardly able to believe it.

"David, what are you doing?"

He whirls around to see his mother, and before he can think, he's crossed the room to hug her. Where he's supposed to be – where he just was – she's been dead for almost five years. Died after a sudden heart attack that he hadn't been prepared for and hasn't ever really gotten over. But here, she's alive and healthy and beautiful.

"What on earth is going on, David?" she asks, and he draws back, realizing his behavior very odd for his seventeen-year-old self.

"I, uh... I had a bad dream," he mutters, knowing it's a stupid excuse, but it's the best he can do.

She looks at him critically. "You've been acting so strangely lately, David. I worry about you."

"Sorry, mom," he says, searching for better words.

"You're going to be late," she informs him before he can come up with something to say. "I was going to make you oatmeal, but you overslept."

"It's fine. I'll get dressed."

She nods and gives him another hard look before closing the door. He shakes himself all over and whispers "Get it together," looking at his face in the mirror again.

He rifles through his clothes and puts on a dark button-down shirt and jeans, which is what he thinks he may have been wearing that day. Close enough, anyway. Then he goes downstairs and grabs a packet of Pop-Tarts before heading out to his car.

His car is a piece of shit, but ironically, it's less shitty than his Festiva, plus it has a beautiful nostalgia to it.

He remembers the route to McKinley like he just drove it yesterday. Although, in this body, he _did_ drive it yesterday, so maybe there's muscle memory at work. He wishes he had more of his current memory, though, because remembering what classes he has is a struggle. He knows he has his schedule taped in his locker, because he always put it there on the first day of school, but he has no clue what his locker combination is.

Fuck. He's just starting to realize that this is going to be a lot harder than he'd realized. Trying not to look weird and shifty, he goes into the office and tells the receptionist that he can't get his locker open. She looks up his combination and goes with him to open it. "Can I...?" he asks, reaching for the Post-It note. "Maybe I was doing it wrong."

She gives him a look that clearly indicates that she thinks he's an idiot, but she hands over the paper and he carefully turns the dial. "I think I mixed up the numbers. I'm a little dyslexic," he tells her.

"Keep it written down for next time," she suggests, walking away.

He finds the schedule inside his locker door as he expected to, although he's taped a picture of a girl in a bikini over it. He pulls down the bikini picture and tosses it in the bottom of the locker before carefully peeling off the schedule and consulting it. Once he's got the books he needs, he concentrates on trying to be a student again.

It's funny, but he'd forgotten how much it sucks to sit in a room all day long, listening to teachers drone on about shit he doesn't care about. He wants to stand up and demand that they teach something useful, like how you shouldn't take those too-good-to-be-true MasterCard offers or what to do if you get laid off, but he's determined not to make waves. Instead, he sits at his desk, head down, and tries to make a list of what he needs to do.

He gets as far as _1) Apologize to Kurt_ before he realizes that he doesn't really know what he wants to accomplish. The idea of _coming out_ and being... gay, well... It's just as terrifying now as it was when he was seventeen the first time around. Just because he thinks about guys during his _alone time_ , that doesn't have to mean something.

But he's not so stubborn that he doesn't remember Vera's words – that he'd be happier if he were married to Kurt. But marriage to Kurt (or any other male) entails a lot of things that are just... _hard_. Being married to Angie is easy. On the surface, anyway. No one stares when they go out and hold hands. He never has to explain anything to anyone. No one has to know his business. It's just... normal.

The thing that had always _bothered_ him about Kurt was Kurt's complete inability to be normal. And not just that, but the way Kurt _embraced_ the fact that he wasn't normal. That he was _proud_ of it. The idea of not being normal still fills Dave with hot shame, even with the wisdom of forty-two years in his brain.

Groaning, he puts his head down on the desk and prays the teacher won't call on him, because he remembers jack shit about _The Red Badge of Courage_.

~*~

It's not until after lunch when he realizes his critical error.

He sees Kurt in the hallway, holding his phone in his hand and smiling dreamily and it fills him with stark terror because he knows he's supposed to go slam Kurt down and walk away. And Kurt is supposed to chase him and get all up in his face and Dave is supposed to snap and kiss him. But Dave can't do any of that because he's paralyzed by a far worse realization than what should be about to happen – the reason for the dreamy smile is undoubtedly that guy. _Blaine_. That smirking douchebag with the preppy private school uniform and the goofy face. Dave's always hated that guy with a passion most people save for religious affiliation, and he wants to kick himself now because if he'd been thinking at _all_ , he would have sent himself back to before Kurt met Blaine.

Of course, he hadn't believed he'd actually _go_ anywhere at the time, but still. He should have spared a thought to remember that this Kurt has already set his sights on Blaine. Probably already has a crush, and even if Dave starts sweet-talking him for all he's worth, he's already got competition. Fuck.

He lets Kurt pass him by unmolested. Kurt doesn't even glance in his direction. Dave feels a little shiver of something – dread, maybe? – because this is the first concrete event that he _knows_ has just altered the space-time continuum. Maybe the first time around, he got up and had the oatmeal, and maybe he didn't hug his mom in a creepy fashion, but those things are unlikely to have wrought massive changes in the present.

The fact that he's just removed The Event from his life and from Kurt's is a _big deal_. He's suddenly scared, because even though he knows he's supposed to be changing things, it feels wrong and freaky and he wonders if he should chase Kurt down and goad him into having the fight anyway. But the moment has passed and everything's going to be different.

Taking a deep breath, Dave tries to force himself to relax. This is _good_. It's _right_. This is why he's here – to fix things. Right now, in this timeline, Kurt doesn't hate him. Sure, he's picked on Kurt a little here and there, but not enough that he can't make amends. It's the shit he did after this day, the first time around, that's the problem. Right now, he's put himself in a better place and he needs to figure out how to take advantage of it.

His confidence renewed, Dave hurries to get to his math class. He needs to come up with a plan that doesn't suck, but planning has never been his strong suit.

~*~

About halfway through math class, Dave realizes two things. One, that when his teacher says that they'll need to use quadratic equations later in life, he's lying through his teeth, and two, that he needs some help. An ally.

He quickly rules out his entire circle of friends on the grounds that they might kick his ass. Azimio might be the exception, but in Dave's reality, they haven't talked since the ten-year reunion, so it's hard for Dave to remember how close they were. It's more Dave's fault than Azimio's because in the old timeline (before Dave shot it to hell this afternoon), Azimio is a pretty successful car salesman. He sure as hell makes more money than Dave does, he has a pretty wife that he undoubtedly enjoys his relations with, and he's got three cute kids, including two boys who – the last time Dave heard anyway – are little loudmouths just like their dad. It's just too hard to see him.

He pushes away the sick feeling that his meddling could have messed up Azimio's perfect life and considers other options. He can't go with a girl. In his experience, they're all too gossipy and his business will be all over the school by tomorrow morning.

He considers Finn Hudson for a second, but discounts him almost immediately. Kurt hadn't been at their reunion – thank fuck, otherwise Dave would have had to leave immediately – but Finn had showed, and even though Dave hadn't talked to him, he'd heard through the grapevine that Finn spent most of the time bragging about his successful "brother." Even at this point in the timeline, before their parents are actually married, Dave is pretty sure that Finn's loyalty is so cemented that he won't have any space for Dave.

He needs someone _like_ Finn, though. Someone who isn't a homophobe. Someone who likes Kurt and wants him to be happy. Someone who cares about others and won't be malicious and try to ruin Dave's life.

The answer hits him immediately. It's perfect.

He corners Sam Evans in the hall after math. "Hey, can we talk for a second?"

At this point, Dave and Sam haven't had their big locker room fight – and now they never will – so Sam follows Dave around the corner with only a bit of mild annoyance on his face. "What is it, Karofsky?"

"I need your help," Dave says, biting down hard on the side of his tongue, willing himself strength. "I kind of... I think I might like someone. _Like_ them. But I've been kind of a dick to this person in the past." _And in the future_ , he finishes silently.

Sam raises an eyebrow. "So you're... gay?"

Dave gulps. "Where did that come from? I mean..."

"Dude, you're playing Avoid the Pronoun. If it was a chick, you'd just say you like _her_. I'm not dumb, Karofsky. And I also don't have a problem with gay dudes, so don't worry about it. But I have to tell you, I'm straight."

Sighing, Dave puts a hand to his head. "It's not _you_ ," he says, exasperated. This plan is _so_ not working out. "I mean, no offence or anything. But it's not you."

Sam holds up both hands. "Sorry, man. But you have been kind of a dick to me. And for some reason, people keep thinking I'm gay. I don't get it."

Dave looks at Sam's floppy blonde hair and pretty face and rolls his eyes. "Yeah, no idea why that would be. Anyway, I want to know if you'll help me."

"Help you how?"

"I don't know... See, the problem is, I think he likes someone else. It might be too late." Just saying the words fills Dave with a mild panic.

"I assume we're talking about Kurt," Sam says, smiling a little. Dave feels himself blush hard, but he can't bring himself to say anything. "Any other guy I know, you'd have to worry about a lot more than whether or not he liked someone else."

"God, this sucks," Dave says, mostly to himself. "I didn't think it would suck this bad. You can _not_ tell anyone. Please."

"Hey, it's not a big deal," Sam says, putting a hand on Dave's arm. "There's nothing wrong with being gay. I won't say anything to anyone, though. And Kurt is an awesome guy. I want to help. I _will_ help. What do you want me to do?"

Dave thinks for a minute about what would be the most important first step. "Could you... Could you see if he's dating that guy? Or if he likes him?"

Sam grins. "Sure, that's easy. He loves to talk about himself." Dave laughs a little and Sam continues, "Hey, give me your number. I'll call you tonight after dinner and tell you what I found out."

Dave fumbles for his phone, realizing he doesn't remember the number at all. "Here, just put your number in here and I'll call you. I, uh... My mom is really nosy, so I'll go outside and call you."

It's probably a lame excuse, but Sam just nods and enters his number in the phone. "Okay, I'm on it. And hey, thanks."

"For what? You're the one helping me."

"For trusting me," Sam says with a smile. Dave tries to smile back, but he's pretty sure he just looks constipated. He watches Sam walk away – he has a pretty nice ass, actually – and he feels completely awkward and foolish, but he also feels like he's accomplishing something. Like things might be on the right path now.

~*~

That night, he has a very awkward dinner with his parents who both question him profusely as to his odd behavior. Thankfully – or maybe not; he's not sure how to feel about it – they aren't referring to the fact that he's their 42-year-old son's brain in their 17-year-old son's body. They're referring to his mad-at-the-world closet case routine. He wonders how long he's been pulling it. At the time, he'd thought they were full of shit, of course, but now that he can look back on it, he realizes he's been a dick to everyone for quite a while. He apologizes, trying to be sincere without giving himself away as a rational adult.

It mollifies them somewhat, and he's able to sneak away after the dishes are done. He goes outside and sits down under the big maple tree on the little bench his mom put there ages ago. Pulling out his phone, he calls Sam. "Hey, it's Dave. Karofsky," he clarifies.

"Hey man. You want the good news or the bad news?"

Dave's heart sinks. "The bad news," he says trying to be brave.

"Well, Kurt definitely has a thing for Blaine," Sam says apologetically. "I brought him up totally casually and Kurt gushed about him for like five solid minutes until Puck got pissed and threatened to kick his ass."

"There's good news?" Dave asks, kicking himself hard. He should have known! If he'd just picked a date couple of weeks earlier! But he's always considered this day to be the turning point in his life, so it's always stuck with him. Of course he would have picked this day. Fuck!

"Yeah, they're not going out. So there's that. But I gotta tell you, Kurt seems pretty sure that it's just a matter of time."

Dave had always had the impression that Kurt and Blaine had gotten together right away, but it might have been teenage jealousy talking. Hearing that they're not a couple – yet – sends a little ray of hope through Dave. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah, totally. I'm sure because he said he hoped Blaine would ask him out soon. He said that like a hundred times, in fact."

"Cool. I guess." Dave says, trying to cling to some kind of hope.

"Yeah. So what's the next step?"

"Next?"

"Uh, yeah. Like, are you gonna ask him out, or...?"

"No! I just... no. I mean, I need to talk to him first. I need to try to make things right. If I ask him out now, he'll think I'm fucking with him."

"Yeah, you're probably right," Sam says, and Dave rolls his eyes. He does appreciate the honesty, though. "Do you want me to hook something up? Like invite him out for coffee and you can just happen to show up or whatever?"

"Thanks, but I can handle it," Dave says. He's not sure if he can, but he's sort of freaking out right now, and the last thing he needs is the pressure of a prearranged meeting. "And thanks for doing research for me."

"Sure, man. I never get to do secret agent stuff like this. I feel like Bond. James Bond," he says with a bad Sean Connery accent.

Dave laughs dutifully though, because he does appreciate Sam's help. They say goodbye and Dave wanders back in the house, lost in thought.

He makes a half-assed attempt to do his homework, thanking his sexuality crisis for the fact that his grades slipped during this time. If he'd had to keep up his usual nearly-straight-A performance, he'd be in trouble. He's rusty as hell in the schoolwork department. He'll let his grades improve once his teenage brain is back where it belongs.

Once he gives up on the homework, he pulls out the list he'd started earlier. It still just says to apologize to Kurt. Sighing, he writes, _2) Come out to mom and dad._

It scares him, seeing it there in black and white, but it's something that has to happen if he's going to change everything. It just has to happen. He'd told Sam and it wasn't scary at all. It wasn't even that awkward.

Then he has a thought that stops him cold. Angie. What's going to happen to her if they don't meet in college and get married? The guilt stabs him in the gut like it always does and he realizes that her life will undoubtedly be better without him.

Grabbing the pencil again, he writes, _3) Help Angie._ He's not sure what that needs to entail right now, but he's getting tired and he figures he can think about it tomorrow. He buries the paper in his backpack with his books and puts his pajamas on.

He hadn't realized how hard he'd been hit by his journey, but he's asleep pretty much the moment his head hits the pillow.

 _Day Two_

His second rewind-day is uneventful until lunchtime. He manages to go through the motions of being a student without drawing attention to himself, but on his way into the cafeteria, he nearly rams right into Kurt, who's going the other way.

"Oh, sorry," Dave says, startled.

Kurt's head snaps up and Dave freezes. He'd forgotten how pretty Kurt's eyes are – how pretty his whole _face_ is. He looks so freakin' young too. Dave feels momentarily guilty for his visceral sexual reaction to Kurt's presence until he remembers that he's also seventeen. Technically.

"You're sorry?" Kurt says, his voice even higher than usual in his incredulity.

Dave can't stop staring. It's been so long since he's seen Kurt in the flesh. In his memories, Kurt is much more _fragile_ , like a beautiful china doll. But here, standing in front of him, Kurt is taller than Dave remembers. Broader and sturdier, which, to his great embarrassment, turns Dave on a little.

What strikes Dave most, though, is how _human_ he looks. There's a tiny spot on his shirt, whitish and chalky like a fleck of toothpaste, and he's got a couple of zits on his chin. Dave realizes that he hasn't considered Kurt as a flesh-and-blood person with flaws since... maybe ever.

Realizing he still hasn't responded, Dave swallows hard. "Yeah, I almost bumped into you," he says inanely, trying to keep up with the thread of the conversation.

"Are you apologizing for the 'almost,' because usually you bump into me on purpose?"

"No, I... I've been meaning to say I'm sorry for that. All of it. I've been going through some shit and I've been a dick to you."

Kurt's mouth drops open. "Come again?"

Dave sighs. This isn't the time or the place to do this – any of it – so he just tries a tentative smile. "I just wanted to say that I won't be bumping into you again. Unless it's an accident. So... Here." He holds out his hand in a gesture for Kurt to pass by unharmed.

Kurt stares at him suspiciously for a couple of beats, and then walks past, pausing and glancing over his shoulder like he thinks Dave might attack him from behind or something. Dave watches him walk away, trying not to stare at his ass. Just because he told Sam that he _might_ like guys, well... There's no reason to start acting like a big homo.

When Kurt reaches the corner, he turns and looks back toward Dave again. Embarrassed to be caught watching Kurt like a creep, Dave just raises his hand in a little wave and then turns and walks away before he can see Kurt's reaction. He might as well just start wearing rainbow t-shirts at this rate.

Sighing, he goes to his next class. He needs to figure out a way to talk to Kurt someplace that isn't a crowded hallway. He's not naive enough to think that Kurt will just agree to go out to coffee or something, and even though he hasn't done anything truly unforgiveable to Kurt in this timeline, he's pretty sure Kurt won't docilely follow him into a secluded alcove.

Even though he hates asking for help, he realizes it has to be done. He also realizes that foolish pride is the reason for at least half of his problems, so maybe it's time to let go a little. He's probably supposed to be learning things about himself while he's here, not just getting the guy.

After the final bell rings, he fishes his phone out and calls Sam.

"Hey Dave, what's up?"

"Yesterday, you said you'd help me hook up a meeting with Kurt. Does that offer still stand?"

"Sure!" Sam says, sounding very pleased to have another mission. "Actually, a bunch of us are going to Puck's house tomorrow night. His mom is going to the Indian casino for the weekend, so he's having a party. I think it's mostly us glee people, but you should totally show up."

"I don't want to crash some glee party," Dave starts to protest.

"Nah, see, Puck's having a huge blowout on Saturday, remember? I know all the football guys are coming. You were gonna be there, right?"

"Uh, yeah," Dave says, even though he has no recollection of being invited. In the original timeline, though, he'd spent several days after that kiss basically hibernating in his room and experiencing every emotion known to man, so he probably _had_ been invited to Puck's and had just forgotten in light of more pressing issues.

"So you just come on Friday 'by mistake.' Like be all, 'Oops, I got the day wrong, silly me,' and then I'll be like, 'No worries, come in and hang out!' and you're in!"

"I would never say 'silly me.' Other than that, this _might_ work. But what if Puck tells me to get out?"

"Well, if I have to, I'll pull him aside and say you're trying to get with someone and that if he makes you leave, he'll be cockblocking you. Puck would never want to get in the way of someone getting laid. If you want, I could say it's one of the girls. Santana, maybe."

Dave exhales hard. This whole thing is such bullshit. He's got two choices – try to change his life or not try to change his life. All of this started because he was so profoundly unhappy that he was psychically screaming at an old woman. He can't go back to that. He can't go back to being depressed and scared and disgusted _every single day_. He's got to just grow a pair and _change_ things. Change it all.

He's not sure what exactly it is that he has to do to fix his life, but he's pretty sure that the end result has to be making Kurt fall in love with him. If this were a fairy tale, that would be the goal, so he's pretty confident that should be his plan.

And he's also pretty sure that it can't be a tawdry, secret love. He's going to have to tell people. But he's not that concerned about it, really. Just being here has a feeling of unreality, like it's not really his life. It's like déjà vu mixed with a dream. He's done this all before, but then again not. So whatever. He can tell people. He'll only have to deal with it for eleven more days. Then he'll be gone and his regular teenage self can deal with whatever havoc he's wreaked.

Taking a deep breath, he says, "Fuck it. If Puck asks, you can tell him. Tell him I like Kurt. I don't care."

"Are you sure? I mean, Puck won't tell anyone if I ask him not to."

"Whatever. I _like_ Kurt. I want to go out with him. I'm not gonna date him in secret. So everyone's gonna know anyway."

Sam's silent for a second. Then he says, "I really admire you, man. This is, like, a huge step."

"Don't say that. You're making me not want to do it," Dave says, biting his lip. Sam laughs, but Dave isn't kidding. Not even a little bit. Being chronologically in his forties, he ought to be a little braver, and he feels double the guilt for still being a chickenshit, even twenty-plus years later.

"Whatever. It's gonna be fine," Sam says, but Dave isn't so sure. He's also not sure about this 'accidental meeting' plan, but it's better than nothing. He's only got ten days left. He can't afford to waste time or he's going to wake up in the same bed with the same troubles and the same beer gut.

And the more time he spends away from his old life, the more determined he is not to return.

~*~

That night, over dinner, he makes sure to tell his parents that he's going out tomorrow. They look at each other and smile a little, and he can tell they're pleased that he's doing something other than sitting in his room and moping. Once he thinks about it, he really can't remember doing anything else, especially after what happened with Kurt. Apparently for his parents to be concerned, he'd been doing it for a while before that happened, too. That makes him sort of sad, honestly.

After dinner, he excuses himself to 'do homework.' Again, he takes a stab at some of the easier stuff, but he just half-asses most of it. He finds that the math comes back most readily, but he can't remember how to diagram a sentence for the life of him, and an internet search on the computer that seems ancient to his future-brain only helps a little. Giving up, he changes into his pajamas and shuts off the light.

It's still kind of early and he can't help the way his brain drifts to his meeting with Kurt earlier. He replays it in his mind a few times, but he realizes that he's not focusing on the words or on what he should do to fix things, but on the way Kurt's eyelashes fluttered against his cheek and the way his ass had looked in those tight pants.

His cock is hard, and he marvels at how surreal it is to be seventeen again, back in his old room in his old twin bed, thinking about Kurt Hummel, and pressing his hard-on with the heel of his hand, willing it to disappear. It feels like it just happened days ago.

Although, days ago, he was lying in bed next to his wife, thinking about some actor or the cute bag boy from the supermarket, so it's sort of the same thing. God, he's a fucking moron. He wasted so many years being scared and lonely, but he's not going to do it anymore.

He closes his eyes and gives himself permission to just be himself. He pushes his pajama pants down and wraps his hand around his cock, stroking lightly. He imagines Kurt's eyelashes fluttering like that just before Dave leans in and kisses him. Only this time, it's not that horrible kiss, because that didn't happen – and _won't_ happen – it's because they both want it. They're both panting and desperate, pulling at each other's clothes, hands sloppy and rough.

He pulls a handful of tissues out of the box next to the bed and gets them ready. He's getting close already, and he lets himself think of the things that he's always forbidden.

He can't really get off unless he thinks about guys, but he's always careful to think about things that aren't 'too gay.' For example, imagining that blonde guy who works with Angie at the gas station getting on his knees and sucking Dave off is okay. Picturing himself just ramming the hell out of that dude from Angie's soap with the perfect ass is okay. Those things aren't _that_ gay. He has to be dominant. Reserved.

But now, he just lets go because he can. He imagines Kurt spread out on a bed somewhere, totally naked, and just letting Dave do every worshipful, submissive, _faggy_ act, and he barely has time to get the tissues in place before he's coming. Coming while he pictures himself just giving in and being completely _gay_.

He wipes himself off and drops the tissues on the floor, feeling wrung out from more than just the orgasm. He's tired and confused, but he's got such a bone-deep satisfaction from just _letting go_. He tries to remember if there's ever been another time when he jerked off without policing his own thoughts, but he can't think of one. He should be ashamed at the mental energy he expended, but he feels too good to beat himself up now.

He feels _free_.

 _Day Three_

Dave avoids Kurt all day at school because he's an immense chicken. Honestly, though, he's pretty sure he weirded Kurt out yesterday and he doesn't want to make it worse before his ambush tonight. Sam keeps shooting him covert thumbs up in the hall and it's making Dave feel beyond awkward, so he doesn't want to risk speaking to Kurt.

The day drags on horribly, of course. Seriously, three days of school and he's climbing the walls. How did he ever do this the first time around? But mercifully, nothing eventful happens and he only sees Kurt at a distance. He carefully avoids Puck as well, worried that Puck will talk to him about the party and ruin his ability to show up 'by accident.'

By the time the final bell rings, he's ready to just go home and take a nap. His old-guy brain isn't used to this kind of drama.

Instead of that nap, he ends up just sitting in his room and staring at the television. Everything seems old and quaint and it freaks him out a little, but it's the best way to mindlessly pass the time.

After dinner, he takes another shower and shaves again – can't be too careful – and puts on something slightly nicer than what he'd been wearing at school. He doesn't want to look like he's trying _that_ hard, so he doesn't change out of his jeans. He does take off the ratty McKinley sweatshirt and replaces it with a nice-looking striped polo shirt.

He still can't get over how young he looks when he glances in the mirror. It startles him every time. It also fills him with regret that he didn't take better care of himself. It wouldn't have killed him to eat a salad or do a sit-up every once in a while.

These are the thoughts that make his palms sweaty and his pulse race, though, because he doesn't know how to 'change' that aspect of his life. What can he do, really? Write himself a note? He only has a week or so left to try to fix things, but there are no guarantees. He's not sure how this works – will he still remember everything from his 'old' life? Will he remember what it feels like to be a failure? He should have asked more questions.

He can't do anything about it, though, so he gets off that train of thought and onto more pressing issues. He goes downstairs and yells a goodbye to his parents, slipping out before they can ask any questions. His memory of the route to Puck's house is kind of hazy and he makes a couple of wrong turns, arriving about ten minutes later than he'd planned. Hopefully Sam hasn't gotten distracted and is still lurking by the door.

He rings the bell and Puck opens it a minute later, a beer in his hand. "Karofsky? What are you doing here?"

"I'm here for the party, ass," Dave says, trying for a tough-guy voice. It's been too long since he asserted himself, though, and it sounds half-hearted.

"Dude, party's tomorrow," Puck says, looking at him like he's challenged. "S'just the glee club over here tonight."

Right on cue, bless his heart, Sam pokes his head around the doorframe. "Hey, Dave! Come in and have a beer, man! It's cool with you, Puck, right?"

In this alternate timeline, Dave's been about as much of a dick to the glee people as Puck himself has, so Puck barely hesitates before he swings the door open the rest of the way. "Yeah, sure. I just didn't think you'd want to, man. It's not that much of a _party_ , if you know what I mean." He rolls his eyes as if to convey that his glee friends are kind of lame and Dave grins.

"Whatever. I'm not gonna turn down a beer. I'll hang out for a while." He steps into the house, trying to tamp down his nerves, and accepts the bottle that Sam puts in his hand. "Thanks," he says, giving Sam a significant look to convey his double meaning. Sam grins and wanders off into the living room.

"In here, man. Rachel's trying to get people to play Celebrity, but I don't think it's working." Puck rolls his eyes before he turns to lead Dave into the room. "Hey, Karofsky's gonna hang out, guys," Puck announces like it's no big deal.

It's funny, but Dave's life has been so defined by the incident with Kurt and what happened after that he can hardly process the fact that no one looks overly alarmed by Puck's words. Kurt makes a face, but most of the others simply shrug, looking various degrees of nonplussed.

Dave wants to make a beeline for Kurt and try to talk to him immediately, but he forces himself to play it cool. He drinks a couple of beers and doesn't say anything to Kurt until he finds himself standing in front of him, an index card taped to his head. Rachel Berry can be very convincing.

Kurt's card reads 'Sue Sylvester,' proving that the glee club's definition of 'celebrity' is loose. Kurt's eyes veer upward to read Dave's card and he smiles a little. "So... Having fun?" Kurt asks, shockingly civil. Either that, or it's a test.

"Actually, yeah," Dave says, trying to smile at Kurt in a way that isn't creepy. "I wasn't sure when we started, but this is kinda fun."

"I can't believe you're being nice to us. Did you get a personality transplant or something?" Kurt's voice is bitchy, but there's a hint of genuine curiosity.

There are a ton of people around, but sometimes the best anonymity is found in a crowd, so Dave just shrugs and says, "Well, I was dealing with some heavy stuff, and I took it out on the people around me. Which was shitty of me, but there you go."

"I'm sorry. Trouble at home?" Kurt asks, falsely polite.

"Actually, I was trying to come to terms with the fact that I'm gay," Dave says. He keeps his voice low, but he says it honestly and as bravely as he can, staring right into Kurt's pretty blue eyes when he says it.

Of course, as soon as he says it, he starts systematically freaking out.

Kurt's mouth drops open and he stares at Dave for much too long before he finally says, "You're messing with me, right? I mean, really."

"Um... No?" he says, completely stupidly. "I'm... sorry?" He's not sure what he's sorry for, though. He feels awkward as shit and his heart is beating so hard he's afraid he's going to have a heart attack right there in Puck's living room, but underneath the cardiac arrest, he feels fucking _incredible_. Loose-limbed and wide-eyed, like someone just let him out of a cage.

Kurt opens his mouth to reply, but Santana spins Dave around before Kurt can produce any sounds. "Am I dead?" she asks.

Dave can't process the subject change right away, but he gets with the program and looks at her card. It says 'Ed Westwick,' and Dave can't remember who that is for the life of him. "Alive," Kurt supplies over Dave's shoulder, and Dave breathes a sigh of relief.

"Way to be helpful, Karofsky," Santana mutters, moving away.

Dave turns back to Kurt, who looks like he has a million questions, but Dave preemptively cuts him off. "Am I a musician?"

Kurt looks up at Dave's card again. "No." He pauses for a second and then says, "Can we talk?"

Dave swallows hard. "Yeah, okay," he says. Kurt turns toward the kitchen and Dave follows. They're almost to the doorway when Finn pops out of the kitchen. He narrows his eyes a little at Dave, like Dave's leading Kurt off to kick his ass or something. Despite the fact that Kurt is ahead of Dave, but whatever.

"What're you doing, Karofsky?"

"We were just going to talk, Finn," Kurt says.

"About what?"

Dave swallows. He's not sure if he's ready to say the words and he's not sure if he wants Kurt to, either. Kurt doesn't out him, though. "Nothing. We were just bored of the game," Kurt says, reaching up and pulling the card off his head, wincing as a few strands of hair catch in the tape. He scowls at the card. "Well, no wonder I couldn't guess this. Celebrity, my butt."

Dave takes his card off, too. Apparently, he's been 'Barack Obama,' which makes sense with the answers he's gotten. He should have guessed, but he's used to a different president in his own time.

Kurt tries to move past Finn, but Finn doesn't budge from the doorway. Dave doesn't want to push it, though. He's pretty sure that pissing Finn off won't win him any points with Kurt.

"Let's just get new cards, Kurt. We'll say we guessed these," Dave suggests, trying to keep his tone light.

"Maybe I can get Rachel to play something else," Kurt says, turning back to the living room.

After he steps away, Finn says, "What's your deal, man?"

"Just trying to make amends with Kurt," Dave says.

"Why?"

Just like that, it's his opening. 'You're here to change things,' he reminds himself inside his head. _Change things_.

He takes a breath. "Because I'm gay. I was picking on him because I had a hard time coming to terms with it and he's... Well. You know how Kurt is. Almost no one knows, okay? So I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't tell everyone. I should get to tell people when I want," he finishes, maybe a bit more self-righteously than the situation warrants, but honestly, he's a little sick of Finn's nosiness. And he hasn't had to deal with it for almost twenty-five years, but it's coming back to him now how annoying it is, though.

Finn's just standing there like a big, dumb gump, so Dave just walks away, holding his head high. It's getting easier. Telling people, saying the words. He'd thought it would be like dying a little inside every time, but it's not at all.

He's not sure if he can hang around here, playing lame party games and pretending to be one of the gleeks now that he's laid himself bare, though. He sees Puck and, before he can weigh the options, goes over to him. "Hey, I'm gonna take off, man."

"No worries. I know this is hella lame."

"Nah, it wasn't that bad," Dave tells him.

Puck shrugs. "They're cool people, but seriously. They need to learn how to have a good time." He smiles at the assembled group fondly, like a father smiling at his children's silly antics. Shaking his head a little, he turns back to Dave. "You gonna be here tomorrow for the real party?"

"Count on it," Dave says, even though he hasn't made up his mind. He and Puck shake hands and Dave escapes into the cool night air.

As he gets in his car, he wonders if this whole thing is easier because it has a feeling of unreality. Logically, it is his life, but it also feels like it's _not_. His life is the one back in Zanesville, scrounging to make a living and struggling with a relationship that does nothing for him. Even the first time around, this wasn't his life. His life was kissing Kurt Hummel and then doing everything in his power to take that fundamental truth away and bruise and bury it.

This seventeen-year-old life doesn't feel like his. And maybe that's why he's starting to feel like he can be free with it. He can tell everyone in the school that he likes dudes and the ramifications aren't really his to deal with. They belong to this 'other' Dave. This alternate timeline Dave who isn't really him anymore.

In eight-and-a-half days, Dave will be gone – supposedly. And this new Dave will have to deal with all of it. It won't be his problem anymore.

That feels both amazing and terrifying, but he's starting to embrace the role. What choice does he have? The fear he feels at having everyone _know_ is much less than the fear that nine days from now, he'll wake up staring at the back of Angie's green smock, watching her get ready for work, and the shame will begin anew.

He doesn't know what to do, doesn't know what to _think_ , even, but he knows he has to do something. Even if he wakes up in nine days and he's still miserable, he has to believe that it will at least be a _different_ miserable. He just can't go back. He can't.

He pulls into the driveway, shaking with his renewed convictions. He's going to succeed. He _has_ to. He owes it to Kurt, to Angie, to his parents. He owes it to himself.

 _Day Four_

Even though he hadn't been out late, Dave sleeps in until nearly ten-thirty. He hasn't been able to sleep for more than seven hours straight in ages. He expects to have a headache, but apparently his younger body can withstand it.

He doesn't notice his phone blinking until he gets back from showering. He's got a text that reads, _This is kurt. Hope you dont mind but i got your # from Finn. Can we talk?_

This isn't something Dave wants to discuss via text messages so he writes back, _Yeah. Want to meet up later? Coffee or something?_

The phone buzzes again while he's standing in front of the mirror and admiring his naked body. It's not perfect by any means, but it's so much better than it's looked in years that he can't help his narcissism. He checks Kurt's answer, which says: _Meeting blaine @ the mall at 2 to shop. Want to meet me in the food court at 1 & we can talk before i meet him?_

Dave scowls at the phone when he sees Blaine's name. He knows he doesn't have a right to be pissed off, but _still_. He takes a couple of deep breaths and reminds himself that Kurt and Blaine aren't a couple. Not yet, anyway.

He taps out a short affirmative reply and starts getting dressed. He's surprisingly nervous. He hasn't felt like this in a long time – giddy with anticipation. He realizes he's not sure if they're supposed to have lunch or not, but he figures he should eat something before he goes because he doesn't want to eat like a pig in front of Kurt. Although this Kurt hasn't ever called Dave chubby, he might still think it. No need to confirm any suspicions Kurt might have in that department.

~*~

When he gets to the mall, Kurt is already there, sitting at a table with his legs crossed neatly, playing with the end of the silky scarf looped artfully around his neck. Dave's heart contracts when he sees Kurt, but he shoves the feeling away, reminding himself that he's got to tread lightly. This incarnation of Kurt doesn't hate Dave, but he sure as hell doesn't like him yet, either.

When he gets closer to the table, Kurt looks up and smiles a little. It's a tight smile, though, sort of like he's still not sure if he can trust Dave or not. Like Dave's confession might be part of a plot. It hurts a little, but he definitely deserves it. "Hey, man. I hope you weren't waiting long."

"No, I just sat down," Kurt says politely, standing up. "Do you want something to eat or drink?"

"Um, do you?" Dave asks, wanting to let Kurt be in charge.

"I just had lunch, but we could go to the smoothie place," Kurt suggests.

Dave nods and they walk over, the silence only mildly tense. Kurt orders something with chocolate and peanut butter and bananas in it, which is probably delicious, but Dave picks the low-cal strawberry option.

When they sit back down at the table, Kurt says, "You ran out of there kind of fast last night after you told me. I hope I didn't... do something wrong."

"Oh no!" Dave says, a little too loudly, nearly injuring himself trying to reassure Kurt. "No, it was just... I didn't want to talk about it in front of all your friends. And your br- your guard dog Finn wouldn't leave us alone."

"Yeah, sorry about that. Our parents are dating, and it's getting pretty serious. We've been spending a lot of time together, and Finn's developed an overprotective streak," Kurt says with a little huff.

"No problem, I just didn't want everyone to hear. I mean, I'm not going to be, like, ashamed anymore or whatever, but I don't know if I'm ready to tell everyone."

"And if Rachel heard, _everyone_ would know," Kurt tells him. Dave grins, and Kurt smiles back, an actual smile for once. Dave tries to calm the fluttering in his stomach that it causes.

"Yeah, I know."

"So how long have you known?" Kurt asks, a little suddenly, like he's been working up the courage to ask.

Dave sighs and looks down at his smoothie. It's an interesting question. He could say that he's known since he was ten and he walked in on his friend Terry changing and he couldn't get the image of Terry's butt out of his head for days. He could say he's known since he was forty-two and some crazy woman offered him the chance to throw away his heterosexual life for a boy with a pretty face and he _took it_. He could say he's known since he was four when his preschool teacher chided him because he said he was going to be the mommy and have a husband. He could say he's known since he was in his early twenties, married to Angie, but with such a crush on a guy at his construction site that he's pretty sure it went beyond the term 'crush' and into 'obsession,' because he literally lost his breath whenever he saw the guy.

He could say he's known since he kissed Kurt, but that hasn't happened yet. Or, it hasn't happened _anymore_ , more accurately.

Although, if he's really deep-down honest, he wasn't a hundred percent sure until two days ago when he jerked off thinking about Kurt. It wasn't the Kurt part. It was the fact that he'd always sort of given himself the out, like, sure, he might have liked the idea of nailing a guy, but there's no way he'd like the really gay shit. That stuff would turn his stomach if he ever even thought about it.

But the other night, he'd just let his brain go. He'd imagined getting on his knees and sucking Kurt's cock, letting it hit him in the back of the throat and gagging on it like girls in pornos. He'd thought about turning Kurt around and spreading his ass open and licking the hole, something he'd always let himself pretend would be revolting, but it had turned him on _so hard_. And when he'd blown his load, he'd been thinking about himself on his hands and knees, letting Kurt work those long, delicate fingers into him.

That's when he'd known there was no scrap of denial left. That's why he'd started the process of coming out. He wasn't going to go around willy-nilly and tell everyone with ears and basic comprehension that he was a big homo or anything. Not yet. But honestly, he had nothing left to hide. No pretenses left to cling to.

"I realize it's a complicated question, but..."

Dave's head snaps up and he realizes he's been silent for an uncomfortably long time. "Sorry, I was thinking. Um... I guess I've sort of known for a long time, but I didn't really let myself believe it until a few days ago."

"What changed?" Kurt asks, and Dave flushes a little.

"I don't know. It was just time, I guess. To stop lying to myself," he says, hoping that's enough to satisfy Kurt. He's definitely not going to talk about what really happened.

"And Sam's been helping you?" Kurt sounds a little cool about it, and Dave can hear the unspoken, 'Why didn't you just come to _me_ with this? I'm the gay one!' in his voice.

"Well, I wanted to apologize to you for being an ass," Dave begins, choosing his words carefully. It's been so long since the events of high school happened that he wants to make sure he chooses his words carefully and doesn't reference any events that haven't happened in this timeline. "Like, that stuff with your Lady Gaga outfit. And calling you names and whatever. I didn't know if you'd want to talk to me. I thought you'd think I was gonna play some prank or whatever. So I asked Sam about it."

Kurt nods, apparently mollified. "Well... Thank you. For your apology, I mean. The other day. I didn't really handle that well."

Dave snorts. "No, I'm the one who didn't handle it well. I shouldn't have just ambushed you in the hall. I didn't think it through."

"Well, I accept your apology. In light of... everything, it would be very uncharitable not to."

Dave feels like a huge weight has been lifted from his chest, and he realizes how much better his life would have been the first time if he'd just settled things with Kurt before they got out of control. He'd been so stupid. So scared.

They chat a little bit more about school and basic things, getting to know each other as something other than enemies. It feels really nice, and when Kurt says, "Well, you better go. Blaine could get here any minute," Dave is pretty disappointed.

It's pretty clear that Kurt wants Dave to leave, probably so Blaine doesn't get the wrong idea. Jealousy twists in Dave's gut, and he wants to stay vindictively. Give Blaine something to chew on.

"I mean, if you _want_ to," Kurt amends quickly, probably off Dave's facial expression. "I mean, I know you aren't ready to tell people, but Blaine might ask questions, and..." He lets the implication hang there, and Dave knows that if he tries to stay, he'll be contradicting himself, and it might arouse Kurt's suspicions.

"No, it's cool. I was just... having a nice time," Dave says, feeling himself blushing a little. It's the closest he can come to admitting he likes spending time with Kurt without being a total creep about it.

"I imagine it's probably a relief to speak to someone who understands," Kurt says. Dave wants to correct him, to tell him it's so much more than that, but he can't freak Kurt out. He's working on a strict timetable, and if he wants things to work out, he can't afford to spook Kurt.

So in the end, he just agrees and says goodbye in a very neutral fashion. Kurt doesn't get up to hug him or anything like that, so Dave just waves a little and turns and walks away.

He wants, badly, to lurk somewhere out of sight and try to catch a glimpse of Blaine. Although, he's pretty sure that if Kurt greets him with a hug – or more – or if Kurt's face lights up for Blaine the way it didn't for Dave, well... He just spent a whole hour with Kurt Hummel and no one yelled, no one snapped, and no one did anything violent or stupid. He doesn't want to ruin it by punting the hobbit into a fountain.

~*~

That night, Dave decides to go to Puck's party. The last few days have been very tense, and he needs to cut loose a little. Even though his seventeen-year-old brain and body don't have any such cravings, his forty-two-year-old psyche is used to getting drunk on the regular. He always refuses to call himself an alcoholic – even though the word's been tossed around in his presence before – but he has an easier time of it if he's got a buzz on. And even though he doesn't _need_ to drink to get through his life right now, the idea of a few – or more – beers is really tempting.

He wants to be careful because the last thing he wants to do is set himself up to repeat the same patterns in his new life that he had in his old one, but he tells himself that if everything works out, he won't need to drink in his new life. But right now, he's got a lot of confusion and tension and, fine, a little fear still, and he's pretty sure that getting drunk is just what the doctor ordered.

Kurt isn't at Puck's, of course, as it's mostly the jocks, cheerleaders, and assorted other 'cool' people. Dave thinks he sees Sam on his way to the kitchen, but he ducks into the hall to avoid him. He doesn't want to talk about anything heavy. He just wants to drink.

When the coast is clear, he heads for the kitchen and lets a guy from the baseball team whose name he can't remember fill up a cup from the keg for him. "Make it two," Dave grunts, and the guy complies.

"Got a girl here, Karofsky?" he asks, leering as he tilts the cup to keep the foam in check.

"Nah, just gonna get wasted," Dave says and the guy grins and holds up his hand for a high five.

"Right on, man," he says, putting the cup into Dave's fiving hand. Dave thanks him and tries to find a place to sit down. That's easier said than done because it's not like Puck has put out chairs or something. Finally he finds a place to perch on a windowsill and he gets started on his beer. It's cheap shit, and he thinks that he'll probably need a lot to get wasted, but he's got the tolerance of his younger self who isn't used to hitting the bar every night. He's buzzed after just the two cups, and after he goes back for two more, the room is a little bit swimmy.

He's watching a nervous-looking guy across the room trying to hit on a blonde girl with big tits, laughing his ass off at the dude's ineptitude, when Azimio shoves him over and plants himself next to Dave. There's barely enough room for both of them to fit and Dave immediately gets a little uncomfortable being pressed against Azimio like this.

"Let's talk 'bout why you been avoidin' me," Azimio says, his voice slurring a bit. He's got a cup in his hand and the beer in it sloshes as he gestures with it.

"Haven't been avoiding you," Dave protests weakly. It's completely true, though. He has been, and not just because of the gay stuff. He's also pretty sure that Azimio knows him the best out of everyone, and he'd been sort of paranoid that Azimio would realize he wasn't himself. Not in the strictest sense, anyway.

"Ya'have, but M'gonna give you a chance to mend ya'ways. Jus' tell me whaz wrong, kay?"

Dave sighs. "Not here, kay?"

"Why not?"

"Cuz you'll kick my ass if I tell you what's been goin' on," Dave says, kind of sadly. He still has all kinds of guilt over the fact that changing the timeline like he has might have ruined Azimio's life back in Dave's reality. What if something that was supposed to happen doesn't happen now, and Azimio doesn't meet his wife? He can't say any of that, though. He's not so drunk that he doesn't remember the warning not to tell anyone.

He's going to have to stick with the gay thing, which Azimio might kick his ass for anyway. It's a lose-lose situation.

"Jus' tell me. Yer'gonna tell me sooner er' later. Y'know it." He takes another long drink, nearly draining his cup, and Dave sighs, knowing he's right.

"Fine," he hisses, leaning close to Azimio's ear. "I'm gay, okay? A big homo. Go ahead. Do your worst."

To Dave's surprise, Azimio merely grunts, shifting his bulk on the sill and grazing Dave with a warm arm. "Tell me sumthin' I don't know."

Dave leans away to try to read the emotions on Azimio's face, but Azimio just raises an eyebrow placidly and then turns to swallow the last of his beer. "Need more beer, man. You wan'?" Azimio puts his hand on Dave's thigh, pressing himself upright until he's on his feet, a trifle unsteadily.

Stunned, Dave holds out his cup and watches Azimio walk toward the kitchen, mowing through the crowd as smaller people dodge out of his way. Dave's leg is still a little warm from Azimio's hand, and Dave doesn't know what to think. Not only does Azimio seem to not care, he's not even _surprised_. And he doesn't care to a degree that he's not even uncomfortable putting his hands on Dave, even knowing Dave might possibly like it.

Which he _doesn't_ , for the record. His feelings for Azimio are firmly platonic, although he's so relieved right now that when Azimio comes back, Dave might kiss him out of gratitude.

Then he has the unsettling thought that Azimio might not return, which he frets over until he sees the crowd part. Azimio walks right back to Dave and squeezes back down, pressed shoulder to thigh with Dave on the sill. "Beer," he says, holding out Dave's cup.

"Thanks man. I mean, just... I thought you'd be, like..."

"Boy, maybe y'think people can't tell, but people can _tell_."

"People can _tell_?" Dave squeaks, suddenly sort of terrified.

Azimio grunts again. "Well maybe not ever'one. But I could tell. M'yer best friend, fool! Suppose t'be anyway. I _know_ you. Now y'better stop actin' like a fuckin' bitch about it or I really _will_ kick y'ass."

"Thanks, Az," Dave whispers, leaning a little closer in what he hopes is an imperceptible hug substitute.

"Quit shovin' me," Azimio grumbles. "I'ma fall off this thing."

"You're so hammered, man," Dave says with a laugh. But he's one to talk. The combination of the large quantities of beer and the acceptance is making him giddy.

"Hey, you both look like you could use a ride home, actually," a voice says, and Dave looks up blearily. Finn Hudson is standing in front of them, his arms crossed like he's trying to look tough. "Did you guys drive here?"

They both nod and Finn holds out his hand. "Give me your keys and I'll drive you both home. You can come pick up your cars tomorrow."

"Whas this? Safety patrol?" Azimio asks, and Dave bursts out laughing.

"Just helping out," Finn says, looking pissy. "But if you want to get a DUI and ruin your chances of getting into a good college, don't let me stop you."

"Buzzkill," Dave whispers, poking Azimio. They both laugh again, but Dave fishes his keys out of his pocket. "Fine, boy scout."

"Les'go," Azimio mumbles. "M'gettin' tired."

Finn takes both sets of keys and they follow him out to his car, Azimio leaning heavily on Dave, who nearly tips over from it. They make it to the car, though, and climb into the back seat. Finn drops Azimio off first, as his house is closer to Puck's. "See ya Monday. Ya'better be back to talkin' t'me, kay?"

"Yeah, promise," Dave says, giving Azimio a grateful smile.

"What was that about?" Finn asks, after the door closes.

"I was kinda... not talkin' to him," Dave admits. "Cuz I didn't want to tell him about me. About me bein' gay." Among other things, he thinks, but he's still careful not to say anything out loud.

"You were serious about that?" Finn asks, glancing at Dave in the rearview mirror. "I thought you might have been joking."

"Who'd joke about that shit?" Dave asks, unable to believe what an idiot Hudson can be sometimes.

"I don't know," Finn says. "But I just didn't think it could be true."

"That's pretty h-homophobic of ya, Hudson. You think football players can't like dick?" he asks, laughing at his own comment.

Finn scowls over his shoulder. "I'm not homophobic! I practically live with Kurt, and I don't have a problem with him or any other gay people. You just don't seem like... the type."

"Yeah, yeah. Turn here. This is my street," Dave says, thankfully able to end the conversation.

Once Finn is in the driveway, Dave says, "Thanks for the ride."

"Anytime," Finn says, trying to smile a little. It looks like he's constipated.

Dave chuckles and gets out of the car, making his way up the steps. Luckily, no one seems to be waiting up. He manages to get to bed and get his shoes off before he lands on the bed. He stares up at the ceiling, watching it spin a little.

He's too tired to really ponder his mission and what he's supposed to be doing, but he feels like today was a real success. He made headway with Kurt, and with Azimio, and even with Finn. Everything is finally working out for him.

 _Day Five_

Dave is pretty sure that his parents _know_ he's hung over and they take great pleasure in dragging him to church. At least they don't say anything, which is probably more than he deserves. He's still getting over on the fact that they're happy he's socializing, though, which is cool.

He barely listens during the service, but he doesn't feel guilty about it. Other than a couple of weddings – including his own – and a handful of funerals, he hasn't been to church since... Probably since the last time his parents made him, which is twenty-plus years ago, inside his head. Although, in this reality, it was probably last week.

His parents go to a nice, liberal congregational church with no fire and brimstone, so he didn't ever mind too much. He's just not the religious type. He does like the part afterward when everyone goes to the church basement and eats donuts. He limits himself to one, though, mindful of his resolution to keep his eating habits in check.

He sits at the end of a table and nurses some black coffee. It's strange, but even though it's what he's had every morning for the last twenty years, it tastes bitter to his seventeen-year-old tongue. He can't really remember a time when he didn't drink it black, though.

Then his phone vibrates in his pocket, jolting him from his coffee thoughts. It's Kurt and Dave's heart leaps stupidly.

 _I heard you had to be chauffeured home. Big night last night? ;)_

Dave snorts into his coffee cup and replies, _Not that bad. Just hudson playing the hero. You shoulda come. It was a rager._ He doesn't make a winky face back, never having been one for emoticons, but he hopes it's implied.

Kurt seems to get it because his response is, _Lol! I bet. What are you doing today? Sleeping it off?_

Dave types out, _I wish! Stuck at church w my parents._ He summons his courage and adds, _Want to hang out when I get home?_

He bites his lip hard, scarcely breathing until he gets an answer. _Sure. Want to meet me at the lima bean when youre done? 2ish? Coffee for your hangover. :)_

Dave can't help grinning like a dork. He texts back, _Sounds good. See you there._

He's already sent it when a thought occurs to him and he curses under his breath. _Wait scratch that. My cars at pucks thanks to ur bro. Might take me some time to get a ride._ He holds his breath again, hoping Kurt won't cancel or something.

He makes another dorky grin when he reads Kurt's answer, though. _Np i can pick you up at 2. Good?_

Dave smiles the whole time as he sends Kurt his address. His parents come over to tell him it's time to go, and he sees them looking at each other happily. Must be because he's practically vibrating with joy. Hopefully they don't think it's the lord's influence or something.

"Talking to someone special?" his mom asks, a little slyly.

"Um, just my friend Kurt," Dave says, belatedly realizing that it might seem suspicious to them that he's so happy to be texting a guy.

His dad just smiles, though, and says, "This a new friend? I don't remember that name."

"Yeah," Dave says, not elaborating. "I'm, um..." He's not going to tell them in a church basement of all places, but he's not going to hide his plans, either. If they want to jump to conclusions, well... He's going to have to tell them eventually. "I'm going to go have coffee with him this afternoon, if that's okay."

His parents exchange a quick look before his mom says, "Of course, honey," holding out her hand to coax him out of the chair. He follows them out of the church, feeling like another knot has unraveled in his stomach.

~*~

Dave's parents aren't usually overly nosy, but he doesn't want to give them a chance to meet Kurt just yet. He watches carefully out the front window and when Kurt's black SUV pulls into the driveway, Dave hurries out the door, calling, "Bye! Be back later!"

He goes down the walk and gets into the passenger seat. He'd taken the tie off, but he's still wearing his church pants and button-down shirt. He's prepared to claim he didn't have time to change, but really he just wanted to look nice for Kurt. Sue him.

"So, church, eh?" Kurt asks, forgoing any pleasantries.

"Yeah. It's not that bad. They go to a really liberal church," Dave says, understanding the root of Kurt's distaste.

Kurt sniffs. "Well, that's good, I guess. You have your keys, right? Finn didn't confiscate them?"

"He did, but he gave them back," Dave says with a laugh. "He was definitely in full-on safety patrol mode."

"That's Finn all right. How's your head?"

"Oh, fine now. Good thing about being young, you know? The hangovers aren't as bad."

He bites his tongue a little, realizing that could sound like he knows from experience, but Kurt doesn't read anything into it. "That's good. Still want coffee?"

Since the alternative might be just Kurt dropping him at his car and leaving, Dave says, "Oh, definitely. I mean, if you do."

"I always want coffee," Kurt says. "I hope the rumor about it stunting your growth is a myth. I want to be five-ten, just like Cindy Crawford." He says this like it's significant, and Dave looks at him in confusion. Honestly, David, it's from _Clueless_. You're a terrible gay."

Dave vaguely remembers that movie, but not enough to quote it. He doesn't take offense, though. Plus he's rather pleased that Kurt called him 'David.' "Maybe you can help me. To be better, I mean."

Kurt laughs delightedly. "Oh good, because you're sort of hopeless. I'm going to need to expose you to some Judy Garland. Tell me you've at least watched _The Golden Girls_."

"Only all the time," Dave says, pleased to have done something right. "I didn't know it was a gay thing, though. I thought everyone liked that show."

"Everyone does. But we like it more."

Dave grins, mostly at the idea that Kurt is referring to them as a 'we.' It's like they're in a little secret club now, which is definitely a step closer to being legitimate friends, which is a step closer to falling in love and living happily ever after.

He's still grinning when they pull up in front of Puck's house. Dave reluctantly parts company with Kurt and gets in his own car, following Kurt to the coffee place.

Kurt is waiting in the parking lot and they go in together. Kurt orders some fancy thing with 'mocha' and 'soy' in the name, but Dave orders another black coffee, telling himself he got used to it once and he'll get used to it again. It's already tasting more normal to him. Although, maybe it's just that the coffee shop has much better beans than the church basement.

"So," Kurt says, once they've found a table. "Have you told your parents yet?"

"Not officially, but I think they're getting the idea."

"You should tell them officially, then. It's very cathartic. Even if they know, they still don't _know_ until you tell them."

Dave nods. "Yeah, I will. It's just... It's not easy to say the words. It's getting easier, but it's still not... natural."

Kurt takes a sip of his drink and smiles at Dave over the rim. Dave has to bite his lip because Kurt looks almost _flirty_. "This is kind of fun. I'll be like, your Blaine."

"My what?" Dave asks, taken aback at the mention of _the name_.

"Blaine. He's this _amazing_ guy I met recently. He goes to Dalton Academy in Westerville. He's been out for a while and he's just so _sophisticated_ ," Kurt says with a happy sigh. Dave clenches his coffee cup hard. "He really knows what it's like to be out in school. And he's just so... You really have to meet him."

"Oh, uh, sure," Dave says stupidly. "He's your... boyfriend?" Even though Sam had told him otherwise, the way Kurt's talking, well... He has to know.

Kurt laughs. "He's just a friend. For now, anyway. Blaine is so incredible! You'll love him! And I do hope this mentor/mentee relationship will blossom into something more. Wait until you see him. He's so... debonair." Kurt finishes this with a sappy grin, and Dave scowls, cursing himself again for not considering the Blaine factor before he made his time-leap.

"This is so much fun!" Kurt chirps, seemingly unaware of Dave's discomfort. "I mean, I talked with my girlfriends about him, but it's not the same as having a male companion who can really understand!"

Even though Dave – pathetically – loves the fact that Kurt has gone from slightly chilly to thinking that Dave is his BFF, he doesn't want it to be because Kurt is firmly friend-zoning him. Aside from a creepy declaration of love, he's not sure what he can do at this point, though.

Suddenly angry, he snaps, "Do we have to talk about him so much?"

Kurt recoils, looking sort of hurt. "I don't understand. He's a great person and a valuable resource for me. He could be for you, too. If you want to be out."

"I said I didn't want to be out," Dave mutters. "I don't want everyone to know. I told you that."

"Well, Blaine's not everyone. He's one of us. And since he doesn't go to McKinley, he won't spread it around. Not that he would, anyway. I'm sure he'd be discreet."

Dave grits his teeth. He's so sick of hearing Blaine referred to as some sort of paragon. Kurt barely knows the kid! And Dave and Blaine are _not_ an 'us.'

"He's not like me," Dave says with a sneer.

Kurt's eyebrows fly up. "You haven't even met him!" he protests, and Dave realizes he's perilously close to giving himself away.

"I can tell by how you're talking about him," Dave says, which is a stupid response.

Kurt bristles. "I'm sorry. I thought you might possibly understand. My mistake for thinking this was going somewhere."

Dave stands up abruptly, because it _is_ going somewhere, but not anywhere that Dave wants it to go.

"I don't know what to tell you. I can't talk about this shit with you," he says angrily.

"Fine then," Kurt says calmly, icing over. He stands up and snatches his coat off the chair. "I suppose I'll see you around."

With that, he turns and walks out of the coffee shop. A couple of people are staring at them, and Dave hurries out after Kurt, embarrassed. Kurt's already peeling out of the parking lot, though, and all Dave sees are his taillights.

Feeling like a complete moron, Dave gets in his car and leans his head against the steering wheel. He's here to _fix_ things with Kurt. Not ruin everything. He should be _happy_ for the confirmation that Sam was right and Blaine and Kurt are just friends. In the original playing-out of this scenario, Kurt and Blaine had ended up together at some point, but Dave had never really known when they'd gotten together. It's not like he'd had any occasion to ask.

Now he knows they're not together, but his complete _stupidity_ might have just sent Kurt running into Blaine's arms. What if Kurt calls Blaine to complain about how he'd tried to befriend a big gay bully and the plan had bitten him right in the butt, and Blaine tries to _comfort_ him, and...

Swearing, Dave picks up his phone and dials. "Sam? I ruined everything."

"Hey there!" Sam says cheerfully, undaunted by Dave's dramatics. "Let me guess. You're the reason Kurt just flew in here like a wet cat."

"Wet cat...? Wait, where are you?"

"I'm at Kurt's house with Finn. We're watching the game on Burt's TV."

"You're not talking about this in front of Finn and Kurt's dad, are you?" Dave asks, suddenly terrified.

"Of course not," Sam huffs, as if Dave doesn't give him enough credit. "I went outside as soon as you said you ruined everything. I figured 'everything' meant Kurt."

Dave feels his cheeks heat up. "It's not always about Kurt," he protests.

"But in this case, it is. So tell me what's up before Finn comes out to see what I'm doing."

"Okay, so we went out to get coffee – "

"Like a date?"

"No, just as friends. Anyway, we were having coffee and he starts telling me about how awesome _Blaine_ is and how I have to meet him and how he's all _handsome_ and shit, and I just... I lost it."

"Wow, _that's_ not totally obvious or anything," Sam drawls.

"Yeah, well, he didn't take it that way. I... I kind of yelled at him. And he left."

"Jeez, dude. That's a pretty epic fail."

"I _know_! What can I do?" Dave moans.

"Tell him you love him?"

"Oh, shut up. You're not helpful at all."

"Sorry," Sam says, sounding actually contrite. "I'll talk to him, okay?"

It's on the tip of his tongue to protest, to tell Sam not to get involved, but he's working against the clock here. It's highly unlikely Sam could actually make it _worse_ than it already is, so he might as well take the help. Normally, he'd try to sort it out on his own, but considering how badly he fucked up, that could take weeks that Dave doesn't have.

"That would be really cool, man. Thanks," Dave says.

"No problem. See you in school tomorrow."

After they hang up, Dave starts the car and heads for home. At least Kurt had gone home and not to see Blaine. That's a tiny comfort, but it's not really enough to lessen the sour feeling in his stomach.

He's pretty sure, based on all the folklore ever, that if Kurt isn't in love with him by the time his three hundred hours are up, this whole mess is going to be for nothing.

When he gets to his house, his parents are out somewhere, so he retreats to his room and fires up his X-Box, determined to see if he still remembers how to play anything with any level of success. He hasn't touched a video game in years. Luckily, it's like riding a bike, and he's able to zone out in front of the flickering screen, forgetting for a few pleasant moments that he's an old man who's forgotten what romance even is, stuck in a kid's body and trying to control his love life. No wonder he's fucking everything up.

 _Day Six_

Dave sees Sam briefly at school, but Sam tells him he hasn't had a chance to talk to Kurt yet. Later in the afternoon, Dave passes Kurt in the hall and Kurt looks away deliberately. It reminds Dave so strongly of how things had been the first time around that he nearly doubles over in pain.

Of course, this time, instead of the fear and the shame welling up and making him want to lash out, he just feels frustrated and sad. He wants to grab Kurt and shake him, to yell, 'Can't you see that I love you and I only have six days left to make you believe it!?' but that would be crazy. Dave's not _crazy_. Not that bad, anyway.

Instead, he just slinks away, turning slightly to watch Kurt's retreating form, a lump in his throat.

"You got it _bad_ , boy. It's just sad is what it is."

Dave whirls around to see Azimio smirking at him. "I don't know what you're talking about," Dave protests.

"I like this," Azimio continues, ignoring Dave. "This whole, 'you finally tellin' me what I've known for years' thing. Now I can call you out when you look at that boy like he's a porkchop. Sad, I'm tellin' you."

"I am _not_ -" Dave starts to protest, but Azimio cuts him off with a wave of his hand.

"Nuh-uh. You can't deny that shit. You're about as subtle as a hungry dog, man. I think you had some drool."

Dave starts to put his hand up to touch his mouth before he catches himself. He narrows his eyes but doesn't comment, unwilling to fight about this, especially not in public. "Can you not do this here? I'm not exactly ready for everyone to know, okay?"

"Why not? Ain't no one gonna care. Half the football team is glee dorks, and they're just gonna try and hug you and knit you a rainbow sweater and shit. The other half listens to whatever I say. And I say the only problem we got is that you don't have enough balls to ask that Hummel kid to go to a production of fuckin' _Cats_ or whatever it is homos do on a date. Shit, man, it's embarrassin' to be friends with you right now."

To his intense shame, Dave has to blink hard because his eyes are watering a little. He wishes it were as easy as Azimio seems to think it is, but he just... He knows it's not true. He remembers how people used to treat Kurt.

Even when they weren't cruel, there was still a disconnect. A barrier that kept Kurt from being fully accepted. People always whispered. Always kept their distance. No matter what Azimio says, things would get bad. And he trusts Azimio, he really does, but how long would Azimio be able to stick by him if people turned on them _both_? He just... can't.

And he's not sure now if the real problem is still fear or if it's that he doesn't want anything to distract him from his mission. Although, since Kurt isn't exactly speaking to him, it might not matter.

"I just... Let me, like, tell my parents and whatever first, okay? Then you can bust my balls in public all you want."

"You told me before you told your parents? Shit, man, I'm fuckin' honored. Now do that shit because I got about a hundred jokes stuffed up in here," he says, tapping his head, "and they're gonna have to come out soon or I'm gonna catch a stroke from the pressure."

"Fine, fine. Glad to see you have my back, man."

"Mmmhm. Now get to class before I gotta start rippin' on you again."

"Suck my dick," Dave mutters, torn between amusement and intense frustration – mostly at himself for being so transparent.

"Nah, I know I ain't your type," Azimio says with a grin, turning his back and walking away. Dave glares at his retreating form, but it's wasted as Azimio turns the corner without looking back.

On one hand, he can't believe how lucky, how absolutely _blessed_ , he is that Azimio is totally cool with everything. It's actually a relief that Azimio's making fun of him. Although, apparently he's had a lot of time to get used to the idea. On the other hand, he's a little sad because he really thinks that Azimio is grossly underestimating the amount of shit he's going to take if he just starts telling people.

No, he's definitely not ready for that. He needs to deal with the Kurt situation first. Or he needs to tell his parents. Either one of those things is way more important than dealing with random classmates and their curious stares or hushed whispers.

Turning on his heel, Dave hurries to class, already feeling the stares on his back.

~*~

After school gets out, Sam texts Dave saying, _Talking to kurt. Let u know how it goes later._

He's determined not to stress about it, though. He goes home and tries to veg in front of the television, but his mind keeps inventing scenarios that involve Kurt swearing that he'll hate Dave forever and vowing to never speak to him again.

Luckily, before dinner, he gets another text that reads, _Things are cool with kurt. I totally fixed everything. You owe me big. :)_

Before he can even go to reply, his phone buzzes again and it's a text from Kurt. _Sorry for yesterday. Sam explained. I hope ill see you tomorrow!_

Normally, Dave would be concerned about what Sam's idea of 'fixing' and 'explaining' was, but he's too busy being elated. When his mom calls him for dinner, he practically floats down the stairs.

"You look happy," his mom comments, plunking a bowl of salad on the table.

Dave grins at her and takes the bowl, dropping a big pile of lettuce on his plate. He's suddenly ravenous. "I am happy. I had an... argument with a friend, but we worked it out."

"Is this the friend you saw yesterday? The one you ran out of here to meet without introducing us?" she asks, a note of censure in her voice.

So she _had_ noticed that. "Yeah," Dave says around a mouthful of salad.

His dad clears his throat. "Is this a... close friend?"

His mom sits down and they both look at him expectantly. It's almost comical, really, and he decides to just suck it up and stop being a wuss. "Yeah. I... I mean, if it's, like, okay with you guys, I want to go out with him. Like, as a boyfriend?" He winces at how totally lame he sounds, but his dad smiles and his mom claps her hands and gets up and hugs him.

"Oh, David!" his mom says, repeating it several times.

"Jeez, mom, it's not that big a deal!"

"It is!" she protests. "You've been so upset lately, and when we started to realize why, we were afraid you would just... not... _accept it_ or something, I don't know. But you seemed so angry, and I didn't know how to tell you that we understood. Your father told me I couldn't say anything!"

"Well, if it hadn't been true, it might have upset you even more," his father says gruffly, defending himself.

Dave is pretty sure that if things had gone this way the first time around, he would have been beyond mortified, but being here again with his parents, both of them young and _alive_ and beaming for him, well... It kind of makes him want to cry.

He lets his mom hug him tight for a minute, and when she finally lets him go, he says, "Things are gonna be better now, I promise."

She has tears in her eyes as she nods. He feels so guilty for what he put them through, making them worry, but he realizes that it _will_ be better. Most of the worst stress hasn't happened yet, and now it won't. Now his dad won't have to go down to the school and talk to the principal. His mom won't have to check on him several times a day in case he's trying to kill himself or something. He hadn't realized what she'd been doing the first time around, popping in and checking on him all the time. He'd thought she was just being nosy – a pain in the ass. It wasn't until much later, shortly before she died, actually, that she'd told him what she'd been afraid of.

Now that won't have to happen. None of it will.

His mom sits back down, dabbing at her eyes. Dave affects a put-upon sigh and asks, "Can we just eat now?"

"Fine, fine," his father says, a little gruffly. "I just... I hope things will be alright now."

"We're just relieved," his mom says, and he wonders if she'd already started the suicide watch. He pushes away the guilt, though, and takes another bite of salad.

"So tell us about this boy," his mom says. Dave rolls his eyes, but he swallows his food and then indulges her.

 _Day Seven_

What with the whole scene with his parents, he hadn't ended up texting Kurt back until quite late, and he hadn't gotten a reply. He'd tried to tell himself that Kurt was probably in bed and that he shouldn't stress. However, when he wakes up and has a response from Kurt, relief floods through him. It says, _Can we meet up after school?_ and Dave tries really, really hard to remember that it's not a date. But he's still as excited as if it were one.

He's so beyond lame.

He replies in the affirmative and gets ready for school. He doesn't bump into Kurt during the day, mostly because he's halfway avoiding him. It's stupid, he knows it, but he's sort of afraid that if he sees Kurt before their meeting, he'll screw things up somehow and then Kurt will cancel. Or something.

Dave sees him in the cafeteria, though. Kurt's eating lunch with his chattering girlfriends around him, and Dave can't help sneaking a few peeks. He has to poke Azimio as hard as he can – twice – to keep him from making some crack about Dave's staring.

Dave and Azimio both manage to control themselves, though, and lunch concludes uneventfully.

After his last class, he goes over to Kurt's locker to wait for him. When Kurt shows up a minute later, Dave has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep the grin off his face. It's hard to believe how much a few days can change your life, really. Less than a week ago, he'd been unable to let himself admit his true feelings, but being given this clean slate has made everything so blissfully easy. He feels like he can do no wrong.

When Kurt stops in front of Dave, he peeks up at him through his lashes, and Dave is almost positive he's being flirtatious this time. "Hello, David," he says, his voice light and happy.

"Hey, Kurt," Dave says. "Listen, I'm really sorry about yesterday, and –"

Kurt cuts him off. "No, I overreacted. I do that on occasion. Or so I'm told," he adds with a little laugh. "Would you like to go somewhere? Coffee? Although we've done that. Ice cream, maybe?"

"Whatever you want," Dave says, just happy to be in Kurt's presence.

"C'mon, I'll drive," Kurt says, leading the way.

When they get out to the car, Dave can't resist pressing another apology on Kurt. "Really, I was out of line yesterday, and I – "

"David, I... I want to give you a chance," Kurt says, leaning over to touch Dave's arm.

"Thank you," Dave says. "I won't be a dick this time, I swear. I mean, it's cool that you're into Blaine. I'm not going to let –"

"No," Kurt says, cutting him off. "I want to give _you_ a chance."

Before Dave can really process what he means, Kurt reaches across the center console and takes Dave's hand.

"What about Blaine?" Dave asks, before he realizes it's a totally stupid question. The last thing he should be doing is reminding Kurt that any other guys exist.

Kurt shrugs. "I think perhaps that I should allow the person who's professed an interest in me to have a chance first."

"But you don't have an interest in _me_ ," Dave points out, unsure of why he's continuing to argue. And also unsettled by the fact that Kurt seems to think this is a competition between Dave and Blaine.

Kurt shrugs. "I don't actually know you that well. You were a bit of a cretin in the past, but you apologized for it quite sincerely and you had a rather good excuse for your behavior. And call me shallow, but I have always been attracted to the big, strong athlete type," he finishes with a coquettish smile.

Dave flashes back to Kurt's angry words, saying Dave wasn't his type. Had he been lying then? Trying to hurt Dave? Or is he working an angle now? The last thing Dave wants is to push Kurt away when he's claiming to be interested, but...

Suddenly, something hits him. Kurt said Dave likes him. In this incarnation, Dave didn't kiss Kurt. He hasn't put himself out there. How does Kurt know? _Why_ does Kurt think that?

The answer comes in a flash. Sam. "Wait, did Sam say I liked you?"

Kurt nods, looking slightly wary. "Yes. He said that's why you got so upset when I was talking about Blaine. You were jealous. Is that wrong?"

Dave clenches his jaw. He's going to _murder_ Sam. If he wakes up five days from now in a cell at a maximum security prison, it will be worth it.

He's not sure who he's angrier at right now, though. Sam, for obvious reasons; himself, for being stupid enough to trust Sam without giving him instructions; or Kurt, for... lots of things.

Frankly, to Dave's forty-year-old brain, Kurt's actions scream immaturity. He'd decided he was in love with Blaine after a day, just because Blaine was the only other gay guy he knew. Then, when presented with another gay guy, one who had a crush on him, Kurt seems to have transferred his feelings like the flip of a switch. Does he just want a boyfriend that badly?

Dave isn't here to get one date, one kiss, or even to get Kurt into bed. He's supposed to be here to get Kurt _forever_. To get that kind of eternal love and happiness that he's only seen in the movies. If Kurt only wants to be with him because Dave's a sure thing, well... That's not exactly flattering.

He sighs heavily. He might be seventeen in body, but what good is having all this life experience if he doesn't use it? He wants _so badly_ to take what Kurt is offering. His fingers are actually twitching with his desire to just grab Kurt and kiss him. His hormones are screaming for it. But he _knows_ , deep down in his bones, that if he does, it'll be over before it even starts. He can feel it.

Kurt only wants him right now because he's a silly romantic teenager, and he's so desperate to ride off into the sunset with a boy that he'll take anyone he can get. That's not a recipe for true love. That's not a recipe for anything but more heartbreak and more of Dave waking up in the morning and hating the person he sees in the mirror.

"Kurt, listen. Yesterday, you liked Blaine. Now you like me? You can't just go for what's easy. I _do_ like you. And I want you to be happy. Not just today or tomorrow, but for a long time. And you're right. You _don't_ know me. I'd like it if you did, but I just... I can't do this. Not like this. I'm sorry."

With that, he gets out of the car and walks away. He doesn't look back and Kurt doesn't call after him.

It feels like a mistake. He feels like he's just fucked up everything he's worked for, everything he was supposed to do. He wants so badly to turn around and run back and scoop Kurt up in his arms and kiss his beautiful face and tell them both that it'll all work out.

But he knows that it wouldn't work that way. He can see it as clearly as if he's watching a movie of his own life. If he did that, they might be okay for a week, a month, maybe even a few years. But eventually, it would all break down because Dave would know that Kurt had said yes to him for all the wrong reasons, and Kurt would know it, too. Maybe he wouldn't know it right away, but he'd realize it. The knowledge would creep in and eat away at their relationship like a cancer, and before too long, Dave would be drinking again and Kurt would be sleeping with some fancy little guy like Blaine, and they'd both be wretchedly unhappy.

Dave can't do that. He knows how that life feels, and he knows how much worse it would be if he did it to Kurt, too.

He walks over and gets in his own car. His hands are shaking as he drives home.

When he gets inside, his mom is sitting on the couch, clipping coupons and watching one of those shows were people sue each other. She looks up with a smile that melts away when she sees his expression.

"What's wrong, baby?" she asks, and he wants to cry because he's missed her _so much_. Being a grown man doesn't make you exempt from needing your mother. And he really needs her right now.

"I just keep doing things wrong," he says, his voice a little shaky. He's not going to break down, though. He's got too many years of guarding his emotions under his belt, and his training holds firm. "You know Kurt? The guy... that I like? Well, my friend told him that I like him, and now he wants to go out with me."

She smiles a little. "And that's bad?"

"He only wants to because he knows I like him!" Dave protests. "Just _yesterday_ he was totally in love with another guy, but that guy wasn't moving fast enough for him. So as soon as he finds out _I'm_ interested, now he likes me? Just like that? It's not that easy!"

His mom clucks her tongue and pushes the newspapers off her lap, patting the cushion next to her. He goes and sits and she pats his back. "How did you get so cynical?" she asks. "The person you want to go out with wants to go out with you. That seems easy enough. Maybe the rest will work itself out."

Dave shakes his head. He can't explain it to her. He can't tell her that he's not looking for a high school romance. He can't tell her how he needs it to be true love. That it needs to be forever. That his life depends on it being forever. Maybe _her_ life depends on it. He has no idea how many things will change if he succeeds in his mission.

Instead, he just says, "Maybe it will," and lets her keep patting his back.

 _Day Eight_

Dave isn't quite sure how Kurt will react when they see each other at school. He'd finally had to shut off his phone and stuff it under the mattress to keep himself from texting Kurt the night before. He just wishes he had some idea. Kurt could be angry or hurt or indifferent or he could be even more determined to win Dave over. Okay, so the last one is wishful thinking, but still. There's a range of possibilities.

What he doesn't plan for is that when he sees Kurt after lunch, loitering in the hall like he's waiting for Dave, that Kurt will say with obviously false cheer, "I want to thank you for yesterday. You made me see how silly I was being. I called Blaine and we talked and he asked me to go out with him."

Dave opens and closes his mouth several times, but he can't come up with a response to save his life. Finally he says, "Oh."

Kurt smirks, all viciously tight lips and too-bright eyes. "Yes. I'm sure we're going to be very happy. You wanted me to be happy, didn't you, David?"

His voice is just this side of manic, and Dave cringes away as if Kurt had tried to hit him. "Kurt, I..."

"Sorry, I have to go," Kurt says, and whirls away from Dave, stamping down the hall in his big black boots.

Dave turns and punches a locker, which is probably not the smartest idea in the book. It hurts like hell. "Fuck me," he mutters.

No one notices, which is for the good. He doesn't want to explain. He's not sure he _could_ explain. He's supposed to make Kurt fall in love with him. He _has_ to make Kurt fall in love with him. But all he's done is break Kurt, possibly even worse than he had the first time around when he'd kissed him and crushed his spirit.

He's a fuck-up. It's the only explanation. It wouldn't be a stretch to say that he destroys every single thing he touches. He destroyed his own life, and he's destroyed countless others. He gets a second chance to make things right, and he just causes more destruction.

He's about to go to class when he gets a text from Sam that says, _So sorry man. I messed up. Can I do something?_

Ignoring the pain in his hand, he types, _Nah it was all my fault dude_ and then stares at it for a good minute before he hits send. He's so tired of apologizing. He's so tired of doing things wrong.

He should probably just go to class. School is an easy place to hate yourself, anyway. The monotony and soullessness of it lends it perfectly to fits of emo crybaby shit.

Somehow, he just can't make his feet walk in the right direction, though. With a sigh, he gives up and goes out to his car. His parents will get a call that he skipped, he knows, but who cares? He's forty-two. He doesn't have to answer to anyone anymore.

As much as he loves seeing his mother alive and his father younger and healthier, as an adult, he's chafing under their authority. And being in school is far worse than working. He has a boss, sure, but at least his boss treats him like a man. He's sick of the way teachers talk to him and the rules he's forced to follow. He's sick of raising his hand and asking to take a piss.

It's just all too much. When he thought he might fix his life, the whole thing had seemed sort of fun. Like a regression vacation. But now it just feels oppressive and defeating. He just wishes he could go home.

He misses his house, even though it's badly in need of repairs. He misses working – building things with his bare hands and seeing structures created where there was nothing before. He misses Angie, he realizes, with a stab that hits him hard in the gut. He might not love her in the way a woman deserves to be loved by her husband, but she's been the one constant in his life for years. His friends, his work acquaintances, where he lived, the cars he drove, everything's changed so many times over the years, but she's always been there.

Cursing under his breath, he starts his car and pulls out of the school parking lot. He can't go see her. In this time period, she lives outside of Lexington, Kentucky. Dave won't meet her until they both end up at Ohio State. He calculates that it would take more than four hours to drive to her parents' house in Winchester, so he decides to go another route.

Her dream had been to be a nurse. Ohio State has a great nursing program, but she never really took advantage. They met in U.S. History the first semester of their freshman year, and started dating right away. By the next year, Angie had gotten pregnant. They both dropped out of school, got married, and then she'd lost the baby. She'd been so devastated that they'd tried again and again, even though they had shitty jobs and no money and a baby ought to have better. But they'd still tried.

And failed.

Dave figures it was for the best, but he can't ever say anything like that to Angie. He probably would have sucked at being a dad anyway. He knows it's his fault. Something went wrong when she got pregnant the first time. If it had been another time, another way... Well, maybe the same thing would have happened, but he still can't help blaming himself. And there was never money for fancy procedures.

Regardless, by the time they realized that a baby wasn't ever going to happen for them, Angie was too angry at life to want to help people anymore. Her life was ruined and it was all Dave's fault.

Blinking hard to clear his eyes, Dave screeches to a stop in front of the florist shop. He walks inside and wanders around for a minute before a middle-aged woman with a friendly grin asks if she can help him.

"I need to send flowers. To a girl."

"Does she have a favorite flower?"

Dave tries to think. He can't remember her ever saying. "I'm not sure."

"First time sending her flowers?" the woman asks, smiling again. He nods, thinking that she wouldn't be smiling if she realized he was actually in his forties and the 'girl' in question was his wife of twenty-two years. "How about a favorite color?"

She smiles and helps him pick out a small but pretty bouquet with yellow flowers in it. He knows she likes yellow, at least. Since it's going all the way to Kentucky, the woman orders it for him online. After a moment, she turns the computer screen to him. "You can write in a personal dedication, if you like."

He stares at the keys for a moment, gathering his thoughts before he types, _Angie, don't ever give up on your dreams. Don't ever let a man stand in the way of your career. Don't put other people first all the time. You're so much better than that. Please always remember that and be happy. – Your Secret Admirer._

It's not much, but he didn't really have time to prepare. He hopes that the movies are right and that girls eat up that secret admirer crap.

He has it sent to her high school – luckily he remembers the name – and only stumbles a little when he has to give her last name as 'Parker' and not 'Karofsky.'

Once he's paid and is back in his car, he puts his head down on the steering wheel and cries a little bit. He feels like a fucking tool for doing it, especially since he's actually willing to admit that he's gay now, but he's going to miss her if his life changes.

He squeezes his fingertips into his thighs and just shakes for a minute, wondering if he's fucking everything up. He's going to change his life, but that also means he's going to _change his life_. The old woman had warned him that sometimes the changes aren't for the better.

Then, with some force, he gets himself under control. He's being completely unfair. At least now he's giving her a fighting chance. He's giving her a world of possibilities. She has to be able to do better than working at a gas station and coming home to a man who thinks about guys when he has sex with her.

And now the guilt is back. He needs a fucking drink.

Thankfully, he still has his old fake I.D. stashed in the hidden pocket of his wallet, along with his wishful-thinking condom. He ditches his letter jacket and drives to a slightly seedy convenience store. He drops all pretence of being a teenager and just acts like his adult self, and the guy doesn't even card him. It's sad, really. He's young again, but his mind is too old to enjoy it.

He's not stupid enough to get drunk in his car. He has no desire to round out his last few days with jail time. He can't go home, though. Not with his mom back on round-the-clock bed checks. He never used to go out and get shitfaced with the guys on the football team – too afraid of getting sloppy and revealing something – but he remembers where they used to go.

There's an old house down at the end of Hill Street, one of those places that used to be stately and beautiful, but then got converted to apartments and eventually fell into total disrepair. Dave parks a little way down the street and heads for the big wrap-around porch in the back, completely hidden by overgrown shrubbery. He opens the pint of Jack and takes a long drink.

Beautiful. He's sliding down the slippery slope into alcoholism much earlier this time around. But whatever. It's not like he's actually accomplishing what he was supposed to do, so he might as well accomplish _something_.

It's about time for school to get out, but people don't usually come here until dark, so he figures he should be safe from interruption.

Of course, he's no sooner had that thought then he hears a voice say, "Now this is just sad," startling him so badly that he slops Jack on his pants. He turns to see Santana Lopez standing on the porch, her hands on her hips. "He's never going to like you if you keep acting like a big gay baby."

Dave scowls at her. "Sam's just telling everyone now?"

"Sam? No. I'm talking about the fact that you're madly in love with Kurt and it's painfully obvious to anyone with rudimentary deduction skills. Or gaydar."

"What?" he asks, wondering if this is some kind of drunken hallucination.

"Listen," she says, standing in front of him, hands on her hips, "you need to get up and stop wallowing. It's pathetic."

"Why do you even care what I do? Just leave me alone."

She sighs and looks around, like someone could be hiding in the bushes. "Let's just say... I know how you feel."

"Drunk?"

" _Gay_ , you idiot," she sneers, and her voice is dripping with venom but her body language is screaming fear, even in his inebriated opinion.

"Oh," he says, unable to think of a better response to that. He's not sure what one is supposed to say when someone comes out to you. He's only ever been on the other side of this conversation.

"Yeah," she says, sitting down gingerly on the porch step next to him. He passes her the bottle and she looks at it for a second like she's weighing the possibilities that he could have a disease. Finally, she gives in and takes a long drink.

She's quiet for a while, which is rather uncharacteristic, but it's kind of nice. He wonders if she's done it on purpose though, because after a few minutes, he just starts talking. He starts slow, trying to be careful to avoid anything about sadistic fairy godmothers or being an old married guy in someone else's body, but the story flows surprisingly well even without those tidbits.

"And he wanted to go out with me! But I said no, like an idiot. Because I wanted it to be real, not just for now, you know? I lo – I... I care about him enough that I don't want to be..."

"Mr. Right Now?" she suggests and he nods.

"Yeah. Now you can tell me how I'm a fucking moron and a hopeless romantic and a victim of Disney culture or whatever the fuck people say about idiots like me."

She shakes her head sadly, plucking the bottle from his hands and taking another drink. "No, I actually totally get that. See... Brittany and me? We were messing around sometimes, even though she had a boyfriend. And I probably could have kept it going, you know? But it wasn't... She has a _boyfriend_. Do you know what I mean?"

"Yeah, I know what you mean," he tells her, and she knocks her shoulder against his in a little companionable gesture.

They sit in silence for a few minutes, passing the bottle. Finally, Santana says, "Maybe we should just try to be their friends. I mean, it doesn't have to happen overnight, right? Maybe if we just stick it out, we'll win in the end. Because I don't know about you, but I'm fucking _fabulous_. Like, really. Who'd want a boy when they could have all of this, am I right?"

Dave laughs. "No offense, but I'd take the boy." Santana smacks his arm, so he amends, "But yeah, anyone who likes girls should totally want to, like, tap that. Or whatever."

"Anyone ever tell you that you sound like a lame old dude sometimes?" she asks, grinning at him. He smiles back and bites his tongue.

"You might be right, but I don't know if I can compete with _Blaine_. Kurt talks about him like he's a fucking god."

"Kurt's a drama queen. I'm sure all reports have been exaggerated. Besides, you have something this Blaine dork doesn't have – proximity. See, think of it this way. You guys become friends. You get closer and closer and you spend more and more time together. He only sees Blaine once a week or so, but he sees you every single day at school! Pretty soon, you're on his mind way more than Blaine is, and boom! You're in love!"

It sounds easy when she says it, but he's only got a few more days. He can't control what happens after that.

Then something dawns on him. It's like _Back to the Future II_ and the alternate 1985. He's changed things already, irreparably. Events that were supposed to happen didn't happen and new events took their place. That means that the future can't possibly be the same, can it? He can't take the same path. He's out now, to his parents, some of his friends. He won't go to college and stay closeted – what would be the point? He won't marry a girl. His parents wouldn't let him do that to himself now that they know.

"It's going to keep changing," he says.

He doesn't realize he's said it out loud until Santana nods sagely – and maybe a little drunkenly – and says, "Yeah. We can change it. It's not too late to fix it."

"You're right," he agrees. It's perfectly clear now. He might not be able to make everything perfect before his time is up, but he can set things on the right path. He needs to line everything up and then just hit the cruise control or autopilot or whatever, and then when he leaves, things should keep going on that course. Which means the future should fix itself.

He hopes, anyway. He's a little too drunk for metaphysical theorizing, but he's pretty sure his logic is sound. He leans over and gives Santana a big smacking kiss on her cheek. "Thank you."

"Ew," she says, wiping off her cheek. "Whatever. I just came out here to make fun of you for being a big gay sad clown. Any help was a total accident."

"Understood. Wait... How did you know I would be here?"

She shrugs. After a pause, she says, "I didn't. I come here sometimes to think. Finding you – and your lovely refreshment – was just a happy accident."

"Yeah, right. I'm sure stealing my booze was your plan all along."

"Speaking of that, how're we gonna get home?" she asks, gesturing between them with the bottle.

"Walk?" Dave suggests.

"Not in these shoes," she says, extending a foot so that he can see her spiky heels. "You'll have to carry me."

"Okay, hop on my back," he says, standing. Apparently he rises too fast, though, as the overgrown yard spins before him and he has to sit back down hard. Belatedly, he realizes he's had about the equivalent of six shots in a rather short amount of time, and this body isn't as used to alcohol as his adult one.

She laughs at him for a good minute before she can manage to say, "I guess we're stuck here for a while."

He chucks the empty bottle into the bushes where it clinks against all the other discarded empties. "So... When did you know?"

"We're going to have _this_ talk?"

"Got any better ideas?"

She sighs, but she obviously doesn't, since she starts to tell him.

 

 _Day Nine_

Dave wakes up on Thursday with a much better attitude and only a slight headache, bless his teenage constitution. He smiles through breakfast and tries to do his best to reassure his mom that he's just having run-of-the-mill boy problems – and isn't _that_ weird to say? – and that she shouldn't worry too much. He's not sure if she believes him, but he feels better regardless.

At school, he doesn't waste any time. He blatantly stalks Kurt's locker, and the minute Kurt appears, Dave hurries over. "Hey, can we talk?"

Kurt opens his locker without making eye contact. "I suppose."

"I want to apologize. For real."

That makes Kurt look over. He doesn't say anything, though. He just raises an eyebrow as if to tell Dave to continue.

"Listen, I had a long talk yesterday with someone like... us. Gay," he clarifies, keeping his voice down. "And I think I see what you were trying to do for me, in the beginning. It really did help to talk. I just couldn't accept your help because... I like you." It's hard to say the words even though Kurt already knows – thanks Sam. "But that's stupid. There's no reason we shouldn't be able to be friends. I know you're... with Blaine. I'm a big boy and I can deal with that. I just hope you understand that I didn't, like, reject you or whatever. I just... I'd like it if we could get to know each other better, as friends, before anything else. Does that make sense?"

"That's actually very... mature of you," Kurt says, a little surprised. He's got a little smile on his face. Tight and strained, yes, but still, it's a smile, which Dave takes as a good sign.

"Thanks," Dave says, returning the smile. "So, I don't know if you have plans, but I thought maybe we could hang out or something after school. We could talk. You know, like you wanted to before I fucked everything up."

"It wasn't entirely your fault," Kurt concedes. "I handled things badly, too. And I don't have plans. I'd like to do something. As friends."

"Cool. Can I meet you here after school?"

Kurt nods. "Of course. I'll see you later." He smiles, still a little bit chilly but a vast improvement.

Dave gives him a little wave and walks off toward his homeroom. It's far from perfect, but he feels like he's getting the ship back on course. This is good. It's what he needs. He needs to leave things in a good place with Kurt, because fucking things up with Kurt in the first place is what started his life on a path to utter shit.

He's feeling confident now that even if Kurt marries Blaine and they live happily ever after and adopt a bunch of babies, Dave's life will still be okay. He'll meet someone else – and even though the idea of that sucks now, it won't always – and he'll be happy too. They'll both be happy. Maybe they'll exchange Christmas cards or maybe they'll never see each other again. Either way, he's confident now that he's doing the right thing.

Dave is starting to be sure that he's approached this whole mission the wrong way from the get-go. Perhaps his objective shouldn't have been to try to make Kurt love him. It seems likely that what he should have been aiming for from the beginning was to learn to love _himself_. As fruity as that sounds. But really. He'd ended up with a shitty life because he just punished himself, every single day. And he punished the people around him as a result. Maybe now, regardless of how things shake out with Kurt, he'll be able to let himself be happy.

~*~

Despite his turn for the zen, Dave can't help feeling nervous when he goes to meet Kurt. It's not like his whole future is riding on this. Although maybe it is. Dave swears under his breath and balls his fists in the pockets of his letter jacket.

"Hello," Kurt says, smiling tentatively at Dave as he approaches.

"Hey," Dave says, and his voice cracks a little. He clears his throat. "So... What do you want to do?"

Kurt shrugs. "There are some sales at the mall. We could go walk around."

Going shopping is pretty much the last thing Dave would ever want to spend an afternoon doing, but he can tell by the set of Kurt's jaw and the tenseness in his shoulders that this is some kind of test. He doesn't want to fail again so soon, so he says, "Yeah, sure."

Kurt looks surprised, and Dave feels secure in his choice. He'd be willing to spend an afternoon doing just about anything if it meant a second chance with Kurt, honestly. One afternoon at the Lima mall isn't going to kill him.

"Okay, I'll drive," Kurt says. "Is that okay? Or do you want to follow me?"

He seems nervous, too, which helps a little. "I'll ride with you. Unless you mind having to bring me back here to pick up my car."

"No, I don't mind," Kurt says, and if the situation were any less tense, Dave is pretty sure they'd both be laughing at their own hyper-politeness. As it is, he just nods and follows Kurt to the parking lot.

In the safety of the car, Kurt asks, "So... You were talking to someone? About your... situation?"

"Yeah. It helped a lot more than I thought it would. Especially since I didn't think we had much in common, but I guess everyone who has to deal with this stuff has things in common."

"Can I ask who it was? Or are they not out?"

"Not out, no. And I don't want to say. But it was really..."

"Cathartic?" Kurt suggests and Dave nods. "Do you want to talk about it some more? I mean... I'll understand if you don't want to re-hash it, but..."

"No, I want..." _I want you to get to know me_ , Dave thinks, but realizes it's too forward to say. "I want to talk about it. If you do."

Once he starts talking, it's hard to stop. There are so many times that he almost references something that hasn't happened anymore, or mentions his life in the future. He practically has holes in his tongue from biting it, and if the subject matter weren't difficult, Kurt would probably be suspicious about his stutters and unfinished sentences.

By the time they get to the mall, they're having an actual discussion, and it's pretty cool. In some ways, Kurt's experiences are closer to Dave's own, but in other ways, Santana's journey had been more similar. It's interesting to get a contrast, and he realizes with some surprise that he's actually developing something of a support system. Gay kids, helping each other, sharing their pain. It's what his high school experience should have been, the first time around.

"Do you want to stop talking about this?" Kurt asks, as they step into a store. Dave looks around, confused, but he understands when he sees some girls he recognizes from McKinley.

"Nah, I'm good," Dave says. Kurt smiles like Dave's passed another test, and he grabs a shirt from the rack, holding it critically in front of Dave.

"You should try this on. Your wardrobe is boring with a capital 'B.' No offense."

"None taken. You're much better at this stuff than me."

"Understatement of the century," Kurt mutters.

Dave ignores him and continues, "If you want to pick some stuff out for me, I'll get a few things."

Kurt lights up and Dave tries to pretend that it's not amazing to have Kurt Hummel dressing him. He can see the girls from school watching them, speculating as to why the school's resident gay guy is playing personal shopper to a guy like Dave. He ignores them, though. Let them talk. He'd thought that shopping would be torturous, but it's a lot of fun watching Kurt flit between the shelves and racks, holding things against each other and shaking his head.

"Here," Kurt says triumphantly, after about ten minutes of scurrying around.

"Should I buy these?" Dave asks, looking doubtfully at the pile of clothes. He has quite a bit of money – probably because his old self would have squandered it on video games and CDs, but this self is painfully out of touch with the 'must have' items – but he's not sure it's enough for all the things Kurt's shoved into his arms.

Kurt gives a lighthearted tinkling little laugh. "No, you have to try them on."

"Oh, right," Dave says, blushing a little. Between his mom and Angie, he's used to women buying him clothes, and he's rarely purchased anything for himself other than the occasional novelty t-shirt. He lets Kurt steer him to the dressing room.

It hits him anew how much he let himself go in his old life when he sees the sizes on the tags. Now he watches himself get dressed in the full-length mirror, putting on jeans that are a 36 waist instead of a 44, and he feels fit and healthy.

"Are you decent?" Kurt asks, knocking on the dressing room door. Dave hastily fastens the last couple of buttons on his shirt and opens the door. Kurt looks him up and down with something like appreciation, and Dave suddenly decides that shopping is his new favorite activity in the world.

"Can you tuck that in?" Kurt asks, fussing with the shirttails, dangerously close to Dave's junk.

Without even thinking about it, Dave undoes the fly, preparing to tuck the shirt in. Kurt swallows hard, his eyes darting away. "Oh, sorry," Dave mumbles, hastily zipping his pants. The dressing room suddenly seems way too hot.

"That outfit looks really good," Kurt says, after a couple of uncomfortable beats. "I think you should get it. Rachel's having people over tomorrow. Nothing big. Just a little Glee get-together, but maybe you could come? You sort of had fun at the last one, right? Before things got… intense, anyway. You could wear this."

"Yeah, sure. I'd like that," Dave says, and Kurt retreats with a shy smile to let Dave get dressed in peace. Once he leaves the dressing room, Kurt is full of commentary on the clothing, as well as everything else in the mall, and Dave realizes he's probably uncomfortable because Blaine wouldn't appreciate him helping another guy like that, especially with the whole pants thing. He doesn't bring it up, though, because he doesn't want the day tainted by having to hear Kurt talk about Blaine. He distracts Kurt by asking about shoes and the incident in the dressing room seems forgotten.

It isn't until Dave is safely back in his own car and heading home that he wonders if Kurt's invitation to Rachel's party could mean something. He'd kind of phrased it as if he was asking Dave out, but then again, Kurt wouldn't ask Dave out. Kurt's dating Blaine.

With that, Dave has the horrible realization that Blaine will probably be at the party as Kurt's date and Dave will be forced to play the third wheel all night. They might even be cuddling or making out or something! He's not sure if he's strong enough to weather that storm, even if it is a means to his lifelong happiness.

With a groan, he gets out of the car and carries his purchases inside. Blaine or no Blaine, he's going to go to Rachel's tomorrow. And it's because he needs to fix his life, _not_ because he's sad and pathetic and spending the afternoon in Kurt's company is pretty much the best thing to ever happen to him. Really.

 _Day Ten_

Even though it's totally lame, Dave spends most of his school day on Friday trying to avoid Kurt. He's developed a (hopefully irrational) phobia that Kurt will have spoken to Blaine and Blaine will have told him that inviting Dave is a bad idea and that Kurt will cancel on him.

He can't avoid Sam, though, as he comes rushing over sort of frantically, as if he's been waiting to spot Dave. "Hey, I've been meaning to talk to you," Sam says, steadying his armload of books. "Is everything okay? I really did things the wrong way, and – "

"Nah, it's cool," Dave tells him. "It's… Well, it hasn't really worked out, but I think things are going to be okay. Does that make sense?"

Sam nods. "Yeah, I guess so. Listen, if there's anything I can do…"

"Kurt invited me to Rachel's tonight. Will you back me up like you did at Puck's? Like, act like it's cool that I'm there?"

"For sure," Sam agrees.

"And if Kurt brings Blaine, will you make sure I don't do anything stupid?"

Sam laughs. "Yeah, I'll totally hold you back."

Dave joins him with a little chuckle, but he's halfway serious. Sam just grins and walks off down the hall with a little wave and a call of, "See you later!"

Dave moves on toward his next class, really hoping he doesn't end up making a fool of himself in any of the numerous ways in which he potentially could.

~*~

Kurt texts Dave after lunch saying, _Glee meeting after school. Want to wait or just meet @ rachels?_

First, Dave is elated that Kurt still wants him to come to the party. Then he spends almost five minutes biting his lip and debating his response. On the one hand, if he waits for Kurt, it's sort of more like a date, which is good, but what happens if Kurt's expecting him to ride along to meet Blaine or something? On the other hand, if he says he'll just meet at the party, that makes it less date-like and if Kurt _hadn't_ invited Blaine, he might decide to do so that he has someone to go with.

In the end, Dave decides to go with meeting at Rachel's, mostly because he hadn't worn his new outfit to school – Azimio never would have let him hear the end of it if he had – and he needs to change. He figures Kurt will appreciate that fact, so he texts, _Gotta change into the clothes you helped me get so ill meet you there k?_

Kurt responds with, _Oh right! Nice. :) See you there._ and Dave stows his phone in his bag with a smile. He knows it's not a date, but he can't seem to stamp out the little flame of hope.

~*~

When Dave arrives at Rachel Berry's house, dressed in jeans a bit more snug than he usually wears and a black button-down shirt with some kind of vaguely silvery pinstripes, he suddenly feels incredibly conspicuous and can't quite bring himself to get out of the car.

Another vehicle pulls up and Dave immediately pretends to be looking for something in his glove compartment. Someone raps on the window, though, and he looks up. Santana. He moves to roll down the window, but she opens the door instead. "Here to claim your boy?"

Dave sighs and gets out of the car. "Kind of," he says, not really sure how to answer that question.

"Wow, I'm not the best judge, but you look way less tacky and horrible than usual," she says, looking him up and down.

He can't help but laugh at her prickliness, although it probably would have hurt his feelings the first time he was sixteen. His adult brain can recognize Santana's attitude for the coping mechanism that it is. "Thanks, you too," he says instead, and she smiles back.

With no other logical reason to delay entry, he follows Santana up to the porch, into the house, and down into Rachel's basement. He finds Kurt right away, talking to Finn on the other side of the room, thankfully with no Blaine in sight. Dave can't breathe easily, though. He could still be coming.

Kurt sees him enter and gives him a little smile, but Finn is still talking and Kurt makes no move to leave his side. Dave wanders around a little, accepting a wine cooler from Rachel, who informs him that it's pink-flavored and her very favorite. Most of the other people say hello to him and no one asks him outright why he's there, although a couple of people eye him slightly suspiciously.

That is until Puck comes up and slings an arm around Dave's shoulders. "So, who is she?"

"Huh?" Dave asks, genuinely confused.

"You're hanging out with the glee club. For, like, the second week in a row. And I doubt anyone's paying you to do it, so I gotta assume you're trying to nail someone in this room. So… Who is she?"

Dave takes a drink of his pink wine cooler – which totally doesn't help with his manly image – and says, "Kurt," with a little smile to himself. It's actually getting kind of fun telling people, especially when he's pretty sure their reaction will be decent.

Sure enough, Puck bursts out laughing, loudly enough that most of the other kids turn to look at them. "No shit!" Puck says, squeezing the arm around Dave's neck a little tighter, almost as if he's priming for a noogie. "You're fucking with me!"

Dave shakes his head as best as he can. "Nah, not fucking with you."

"I did _not_ see that one coming," Puck says, still chuckling. "Well, right on, man. How come you're not talking to him?"

"He's seeing someone else."

"Sucks, man. Been there. But hey, good luck," Puck tells him, releasing Dave's head.

"Thanks. And hey, keep all this on down-low, okay? I'm trying to let people know when I want to, you know? Plus with Kurt dating Blaine…"

"Understood. I won't say a word. But hey, just so you know, Kurt's one of us. If you hurt him, I'll hurt your face."

The idea of Noah Puckerman threatening violence over Kurt Hummel's honor is rather ridiculous, but so's everything else in Dave's life, so he just nods solemnly. "I got it."

Puck raises his beer in a little salute and walks off toward Santana and Brittany. Dave has a moment of panic that Santana will say something and Puck will confirm it and then people will start _knowing_ before he remembers that it would be okay if that happened. Sure, he wants to do things on his own terms, but it's going to come out eventually. _He_ is going to come out, and it's going to be okay.

"What were you and Puck laughing about?" Kurt asks, startling Dave out of his thoughts.

"Oh, just football stuff," Dave says, which is a lame excuse, but the best he can do when taken by surprise.

"I like your outfit," Kurt says, giving Dave a little smirk.

"Yeah, I wonder why," Dave jokes. But even though he knows Kurt is probably just referencing their shopping trip, he can't help a small thrill at the idea that Kurt might think he looks good.

Before he can think of anything else witty to say, though, Santana's voice cuts through the din. "Spin the bottle, bitches!"

"Isn't it a little early for that?" Rachel asks, wringing her hands a little.

"Spin the bottle is a kiddie game. It's never too early, Berry. Get in the circle."

Kurt and Dave look at each other for a beat, before Kurt gives a little shrug and goes to sit on the floor next to Tina. Dave's heart is pounding out of his chest because he's really not emotionally prepared for this kind of thing, but other than flee the party like a huge weirdo, he doesn't really have any choice. He sits down next to Kurt and Sam plops on his other side. Out of his peripheral vision, Dave can see Sam trying to catch his eye, probably to give him some kind of signal or sign regarding Kurt that Sam thinks is covert, but Dave studiously ignores him.

"Okay, listen up children," Santana says, once everyone's sitting in a ragged approximation of a circle, "the rules are simple. The bottle respects nothing. It doesn't care about your relationship status or gender preference. You spin someone, you kiss them, then they spin, end of story. If you spin yourself, you spin again. We clear?"

Before anyone can say anything, Santana leans forward and spins an empty wine cooler bottle. It wobbles to a stop pointed straight at Puck. "Been there, done that," Santana complains, but she dutifully leans forward and lets Puck give her a lusty kiss.

Puck's bottle is still spinning as Kurt leans in to Dave. "Is this okay? I mean, this is kind of weird for me, but I know it doesn't really mean anything, but… I know for us it's a bit different than the others…"

Looking away from Puck kissing a squealing Rachel, Dave meets Kurt's eyes. He shrugs. "I don't know. It's just a game, right? I mean, I'm not gonna throw up if I have to kiss a girl or whatever. You're the one in a relationship. It probably matters a lot more to you. If you want to, like, go, or…"

Kurt looks away with something almost like guilt, and Dave wants to press the issue, but Quinn's spun Kurt and is crawling across the circle toward him with a big smile on her pretty face. Kurt laughs a little and dutifully gives Quinn a kiss. It's weird watching Kurt kiss a girl, but also a total turn-on because it's _Kurt_ and he's using his _lips_ to _kiss_ , which is awesome.

Then it's over and Quinn is scooting back across the circle. "Get it, Hummel!" Puck yells, and everyone laughs. Most of the people are varying degrees of drunk, and Dave wishes he'd had more than two wine coolers. He could stand to be a lot more buzzed then he is. Especially since Kurt has his hand on the bottle and he's twisting it around. It spins wild and fast for a few seconds before it starts to slow.

Dave doesn't realize he's holding his breath until the bottle is nearly stopping, coming closer and closer, and Dave has to gasp for air. Somehow, maybe fate, maybe some leftover time-travel magic, the bottle stops pointing straight at Dave.

The resulting laughs and catcalls echo in Dave's head and he realizes this is his now-or-never moment. This is his do-over. He's done this once before and it ruined his life. Now he has a chance to do it in a way that he prays will fix his life.

He turns to Kurt and slides a hand along the curve of his jaw, tilting Kurt's head up so he can bring their lips together. Their mouths touch and Dave can feel Kurt's heartbeat in the side of his neck. Kurt's mouth barely moves under his, and Dave wishes he knew if it was due to surprise or due to some other reason that Dave doesn't want to think about. He knows he has to control himself to a degree, but he can't help closing his mouth around Kurt's full lower lip just a little, lingering as long as he dares before pulling away.

When he sits back on his heels, Kurt is looking sort of shell-shocked and he reaches one hand up to touch his mouth, almost like he's making sure it's still in place.

Dave goes to reach for the bottle and realizes everyone is staring at him. Some of their faces are shocked, some are happy, some are confused, but everyone is creepily quiet. "What?" Dave asks, suddenly giddy. "Is something wrong?"

He spins the bottle, crossing his fingers that he won't get another one of the guys, since that would be awkward, especially since he just pretty much outed himself. He's ninety percent sure that straight guys don't usually kiss gay guys that thoroughly or without complaint, even in a very liberal game of spin the bottle. By doing it and obviously liking it, it's basically like putting on a t-shirt that says he likes dick. But he could give a fuck less because he just kissed Kurt Hummel and the world is still turning. No one's angry, no one's punching things. Kurt looks a little stunned still, yeah, but it's in a good way this time. Nothing can get Dave down now.

His bottle stops on Brittany, who gives him a thorough and rather enjoyable kiss, but nothing can distract him from the way Kurt's mouth had felt. No one hits either Dave or Kurt on the next few spins, and Kurt is still sitting there like a statue.

Dave's starting to freak out. Is he thinking about whether someone will tell Blaine? Is Dave just that bad a kisser? Finally he can't stand it anymore and he elbows Kurt. "Help me find some water?"

Kurt nods, so Dave turns to Sam. "Be back in a minute."

Same grins and gives him a broad thumbs-up. Dave rolls his eyes as he stands, heading for the stairs, Kurt following behind.

When they get up to the kitchen, Dave turns on the tap, running it to get it cold. "What's wrong?"

Kurt shrugs, not meeting Dave's eyes. "Nothing."

"Are you worried about Blaine? Because it's just a game. I'm sure no one will say anything, and even if they do, he can't be mad about a game, right?"

"No, it's not that. It's just… I'm sorry, I really have to go. I forgot, but I have… homework."

Dave stands there in shock, the water still running, as Kurt hurries from the kitchen. A second later, he hears the front door open and close. "What the fuck?" he says aloud to the empty kitchen.

The kitchen doesn't seem to have any more answers than Dave has. Defeated, he turns off the water and goes out the door. There's no sign of Kurt, though. He must have broken several land speed records getting out of there.

Somehow, through no fault of his own this time, Dave's ruined everything again. A stupid bottle caused Kurt to cheat and now he's blaming Dave for that as well. He gets in his car and leans his head against the cool steering wheel. What he'd thought was a catharsis, an ugly never-was-memory made into something new and beautiful, has turned out to be just another thing that's set him back.

It's Friday night. He's got two days left. Sometime on Sunday, his three hundred hours will be up and he'll be back… Somewhere. He's in limbo now. He doesn't have his old life, but he doesn't have a new one yet, either. As of now, he's going to return to a forty-two-year-old life of completely uncertain specifications. All he knows is that, as of now, Kurt is highly unlikely to be a part of it.

 _Day Eleven_

Dave spends the majority of Saturday in a funk. Luckily, his mother seems to have learned the difference between his previous seriously-depressed funks and his current boy-troubles funk, and instead of wringing her hands and lurking, she's been smiling fondly and offering him sandwiches. He's on his third sandwich of the day when he gets a text alert. He puts down the X-Box controller to grab his phone and winces at how sore his hands are. He wonders if it's a time-travel effect or if, even as a sixteen-year-old, he's unused to five straight hours of mindless gaming.

He's been 'back' so long that his memories of what it was like to be sixteen the first time around have grown hazy, replaced with the new reality of this week. Which is probably a good thing.

The text is from Sam and it reads, _Finns having us glee guys over to watch the osu game at kurts house. Idk if kurt will be home but its his house so… You in?_

Chances are that if Finn is hosting a football party, Kurt will have vacated the premises, but as Sam says, it _is_ his house. The chance to run into him 'accidentally' without having to actually set something up is too tempting. He could say he's sorry for the previous night and it might lead to something resembling a conversation, at least. He texts Sam back, _As long as youre sure finns ok w it._ and goes to take a shower.

He's got an affirmative reply from Sam when he gets back to his room to dress, so he throws on a pair of jeans and his Ohio State hoodie. At least this way he'll look like he's actually there because he wants to watch the game and not watch for Kurt.

~*~

Since he'd been unwashed and dressed in his pajamas when Sam texted, he doesn't get there until after the game's started. An older man answers the door and Dave is immediately struck dumb because he'd somehow forgotten that Kurt's dad would be there, it being his house and all. And well, in the original timeline, the interactions he'd had with Kurt's dad weren't exactly pleasant. His mouth goes dry, remembering the way Burt had pinned him up against the wall by his throat, and that awful meeting in Principal Figgins's office.

"You Finn's friend?" Mr. Hummel asks when Dave continues to stand mutely on the porch like an idiot for far longer than is polite.

"Yeah, sorry. I'm Dave. You're Kurt's dad, right?"

"Burt Hummel," Burt says, holding out his hand to shake. His eyes are a little wary, though, like he's wondering why Dave is asking about Kurt. It pisses Dave off that people have treated Kurt badly enough, even before Dave started in on him, that Burt is already concerned.

"Nice to meet you. I'm actually more of Kurt's friend than Finn's. Is he here, too?"

Burt gives him a quick once-over, eyebrow nearly disappearing under his hat, but he doesn't challenge Dave's assertion of friendship. "Yeah, but he's gonna avoid the game like the plague. I could tell him you're here…?"

"Oh, no, don't bother him. I'm here for the game," Dave stammers. Burt nods and eyes him slightly suspiciously, but leads him into the living room without comment.

Finn, Puck, Sam, Artie, and Mike fill him in on what he's missed so far, all talking over one another. It's fun to feel like one of the guys, and it strikes him that he's never really hung out with guys like this. He and Azimio occasionally watched stuff on TV or played video games, but the rest of the guys from the football team were never included. And in college, he spent most of his time with Angie and didn't really cultivate any friendships with males, mostly because of the fear that went along with hiding his sexuality. After that, he always had drinking buddies from work or other regulars at his favorite bars, but those relationships consisted of an exchange of first names, laments about life being a bitch, and not much else.

Sam and the rest of the glee guys actually have fun together, laughing and joking. And Finn, Sam, and Puck all know that Dave's gay – Artie and Mike probably have their suspicions after last night, if no one's outright told them – and no one's treating him any differently. He'd always been afraid that if he got too close to a guy that they'd _know_ or he'd somehow let on, and then he'd lose a friend – or worse. But these guys don't even care. He finds himself smiling and joking more than he can remember doing, maybe ever.

He's right in the middle of laughing hard over some double-entendre Puck's made when a movement catches his eye. He turns to see Kurt standing in doorway of the den, looking kind of surprised, maybe wondering why Dave's in his house. He doesn't say anything, though, and disappears around the corner. Without thinking, Dave jumps up off the floor and follows him.

"Hey, Kurt, wait. Can we talk?"

Kurt stiffens, but he stops in the hallway, turning around but not quite meeting Dave's eye. "Yes. You're here with Finn?"

"He invited me, yeah. I'm sorry if you don't want me in your house or whatever. I mean, I get why you're mad. I shouldn't have kissed you. I know you're with Blaine, but I just thought, it was a game, you know? It wasn't supposed to be a big deal. I mean, you kissed Quinn first. But then I got home and I thought, maybe he wouldn't care if you kissed a girl, but kissing a guy is a lot worse, and I just kind of went for it and I probably should have asked first and –"

"David," Kurt says firmly, interrupting Dave's rambling apology. "I'm not dating Blaine."

Dave swallows hard, trying to stop the flow of words threatening to erupt. Finally he decides on an eloquent, "What?"

"I made it up," he says, scuffing his toe in the carpet. He's not wearing shoes, and for some reason, probably since Kurt is usually so impeccably dressed, seeing him in stocking feet in the narrow hallway strikes Dave as uncomfortably intimate. Kurt takes a deep breath and continues, "I was upset because you rebuffed my advances, so I wanted you to think you had missed your chance."

Dave's heart is beating so hard that he wants to press his hand to his chest. He _hasn't_ missed his chance. "Can we talk about this? Somewhere other than the hall?"

Kurt glances nervously at the doorway to the den and nods. He leads Dave through the hall and down some stairs into what is unmistakably Kurt's bedroom. It looks a little like the set of an _Arabian Nights_ themed porno, but it's sort of cool, Dave supposes. He looks around nervously, unsure where to sit.

Finally he sits down on what he originally thought was a couch, but now realizes is a bed. Sitting on Kurt's bed feels inappropriate, but jumping up like a weirdo would probably be worse.

"Anyway, I'm sorry that I… lied," Kurt says, sitting on a pink chair, freeing Dave from his internal struggle.

"It's not a big deal. I mean, I deserved it. I… I'm sorry I hurt your feelings. I really hope you understand why I said I didn't want to go out."

"I do. Now, anyway. At the time, I was… defensive. But in hindsight, it was a very mature decision," Kurt says, still failing to look Dave directly in the face.

In light of this revelation, there's one more thing Dave is desperate to know, so he plunges in. "If… If you're not dating someone else, why did you get so upset last night. When we… When we kissed?"

Kurt turns his head even more, and it might just be the scarves draped over the lamp, but it looks like his cheeks go pink. "That was… my first kiss. With a boy anyway. I wasn't upset about it. I was just… overwhelmed."

Dave's heart is pounding even harder now, almost painful in his chest. The room suddenly feels too hot, the décor cloying. "Overwhelmed in a bad way?" he asks, barely above a whisper.

"No," Kurt admits, his voice hushed.

"It was mine too, you know. My first with a guy."

"You didn't seem as… overwhelmed," Kurt says, almost a little defensively.

"Well, I thought I'd just made you cheat on your boyfriend. I thought you were _mad_ at me," Dave protests. "The actual kiss, though, that… That was definitely overwhelming."

"Really?" Kurt asks, preening a little.

"Well, it would have been better if you hadn't seemed like you were terrified of me," Dave teases.

"Terrified!? Hardly! I just wasn't _ready_! You manhandled me without so much as a warning and – "

"What if I warn you right now?" Dave interrupts, way too turned on by Kurt's blushing sputtering and the knowledge that Kurt ran away because Dave _rocked his world_. "Would it be different? What if I told you I was going to get up and come over there and kiss you right now?"

Kurt makes a tiny noise, but he nods. "Yes, that would be preferable."

"Okay," Dave says, trying to bite back his grin. "I'm standing up now," he says as he gets up. "And I'm coming over there."

"Shut up," Kurt complains, rising from the chair. "I don't need a play-by-play."

He's smiling too, though, and this time when Dave touches his face, Kurt slides his hands up over Dave's arms and tilts his face up, lips parted just the tiniest bit.

Dave lowers his face until his mouth is barely six inches from Kurt's. "I'm going to kiss you now," he whispers. All traces of the smile are gone from Kurt's mouth. He's poised, breathing shallowly, and when Dave touches their lips together, Kurt sighs, clinging to Dave's arms.

This time their mouths move together, and Dave feels bold enough to suck gently on Kurt's lower lip, slipping his tongue along the silky skin. Kurt makes another little noise and opens his mouth more, letting their tongues touch just a little.

Afraid of pushing too far and ruining things, Dave pulls back and takes a breath. "Was that better, then?"

Kurt's staring at him with wide eyes, and he nods as if he's not currently capable of speech. Dave's never felt quite so pleased with himself in his life. His heart is racing and all he can think is that maybe, maybe at the final hour he's succeeded in his mission!

Without bothering to ask this time, Dave leans in again, and Kurt doesn't protest the lack of permission. He meets Dave kiss-for-kiss, and things move from experimental kissing to legitimate making out in a matter of moments. He's about to start steering Kurt toward the bed when someone clears their throat loudly behind them.

They jump apart guiltily, whirling to see Burt standing on the bottom step, glaring at them. "So, this is what you meant by being more Kurt's friend than Finn's, I take it?"

Dave shrugs a little. "I'm sorry, sir, we weren't…" He trails off, not sure what to say, since they clearly _were_. They've been caught red-handed and there's not really a defense.

"Is he your boyfriend, Kurt?" Burt asks, and Dave feels Kurt shift against him.

"Not at the present, no, but maybe if you'd let us talk…"

"I think you've done enough _talking_ for one night. Why don't you boys come upstairs? You can talk just fine up there. Where I can see your hands."

"Dad!" Kurt protests, but Dave elbows him. If they're going to get together for real, he needs Burt on their side.

"No problem, sir. Sorry again."

Burt snorts a little, but he turns and goes up the stairs, trusting them to follow.

"Traitor," Kurt complains.

"Dude, it's not gonna be much fun to go out with you if your dad hates me!"

Kurt ducks his head again, smiling a little. "You want to go out with me?"

"Well… If the offer still stands. I mean, what I wanted was a chance to get to know you better and have you get to know me. I was afraid that you only wanted to date me because I was _there_ , you know? I feel a little more confident this time that there are other reasons why you want to go out with me."

"You are a good kisser," Kurt says, making flirty eyes at Dave.

"So shallow."

"I'm not going to make a list. You'll get a big head. You're already a jock. You don't need anything making your skull thicker."

Dave laughs. "I thought you liked big, strong athletes," he teases.

"I do," Kurt says, running a hand up Dave's bicep, which Dave immediately flexes as hard as he can.

" _Upstairs_ ," Burt hollers from the top of the stairs. Dave and Kurt both laugh and Dave extends a hand to Kurt. Kurt takes it, lacing their fingers together, and they walk up the stairs hand-in-hand. Burt makes a pained face when he sees their hands, but he doesn't say anything.

They follow him, but Kurt pauses at the doorway to the den. "Are you..? I mean, we don't have to say anything yet," he says nervously, lifting their joined hands for emphasis.

Dave rolls his eyes. "I'm _proud_ to be with you, and I'm proud to be who I am." Kurt smiles at him, and to Dave's extreme pleasure, he realizes it's totally true. He doesn't feel any shame at all. He _wants_ people to know that he likes Kurt and that Kurt likes him.

With that, he leads Kurt into the den, and everyone reacts at once. Sam leaps up and claps, grinning like a dork. Artie slaps Mike hard in the shoulder and says, "I _knew_ it!" as Mike laughs. Finn rolls his eyes but he's smiling, and Puck wolf-whistles way too loudly. Sam pointedly tugs Puck until he slides down onto the floor next to Sam, leaving a space on the couch where Kurt and Dave can sit.

"Wait, are you really going to sit here and watch football?" Dave asks as Kurt nestles against his side.

"Well, since I'm forbidden from allowing you downstairs, I guess I'll have to endure."

Dave smiles and puts his arm around Kurt's shoulders, shooting Burt a look, trying to wordlessly ask if it's okay. Burt gives a little nod as if to say, 'If you must,' and turns back to the game. "So what did I miss?" Dave asks, squeezing Kurt's shoulders.

"Not as much as we apparently did," Mike mutters, but they all good-naturedly recap the first half.

Not that it does much good because Dave isn't aware of anything other than Kurt's warm body next to him for the entirety of the game.

Once it ends, there's not really any excuse to linger. Kurt walks him to the door. The others are still milling around, grabbing coats and putting on shoes, so they can't really have a private moment, but Kurt still leans up to kiss Dave, heedless of their friends. It's quick and chaste, but it still thrills Dave to the tips of his toes. Especially since, other than a couple of groans typical of any kissing couple in the midst of a boys' night, their friends don't seem to make anything of it.

"I'm sure my parents are going to drag me to church in the morning, but I'll call you after, okay? Maybe we can go to a movie or something?" Dave asks.

"Sounds perfect," Kurt tells him. Dave squeezes his hand and turns to leave.

Sam catches up to him halfway down the driveway. "I knew you could do it!"

"Thanks so much for everything, really," Dave says, giving Sam a pat on the shoulder. "I couldn't have done it without you."

Sam beams. "Thanks, man! Let me know how your date goes tomorrow. I mean, not like, details, but... you know."

Dave laughs and they say goodbye, calling goodbyes to all of the others.

He practically floats home and when he gets there, he goes straight to bed to jerk off, still tasting Kurt on his lips. He's so pent-up from the kissing and the emotional release that he doesn't even realize that his time here is nearly up. He strokes himself hard and fast, coming with Kurt's name on his tongue, and falls asleep almost before the crumpled wad of tissues hits the floor.

 _Day Twelve_

When Dave wakes up, reality hits him hard. The whole time as he's showering and getting ready for church, he frets. He's only got a short time left. Has he 'succeeded' in his mission? Kurt likes him, but no one's discussed love yet. Does Kurt need to love him? Should he try saying it this afternoon? But what if it's way too soon and Kurt freaks out and it sets everything back and he's got no time to fix it?

What if sex was the end-all-be-all and chaste kissing isn't enough? Should he try to have sex with Kurt? It's really way too soon. That can't be good for their budding relationship.

And what about his plan to get to know Kurt and let Kurt get to know him? They didn't have _that_ much time for that, but Dave's reasonably confident that they did the best they could in the limited time available. Hopefully it was enough. But what if it wasn't?

Then the other fears hit him: He's not entirely certain when his time will be up. He knows he woke up sixteen, but did he transfer at that moment? Or sometime in the night? How many hours was he back before he became aware of it?

His head swimming, he dutifully follows his parents into a pew, eager for the solitude of the service. He tries to put his thoughts of sex and lust out of his head, instead focusing on the positives. He knows who he is now. His parents know and his friends know. He actually _has_ friends now, the kind who will support him and have his back if anyone tries to act like a jerk at school.

He has friends and a boyfriend and a social life. He's gone from a scared boy who messed up his entire life to a confident man with his whole life in front of him. It's a difference of night and day. Of black and white, of light and dark.

As he has this thought, he looks down at his joined hands. The pastor is still speaking, but the lights are dimming. The sun is setting. 'No,' he thinks. 'Not yet. Let me see him one more time. Please, just one more time. Let me tell him I love him. Let me tell him it needs to be forever.'

And then he wakes up.

 _Epilogue_  
The first thing he's aware of when he wakes up is that the sheets he's lying on are much silkier than the flannel ones on his old twin bed. And much softer than the cheap ones that were on the bed he shared with Angie. He stretches out a leg experimentally and hits nothing but more bed. Rolling over, he rubs his eyes hard, trying to adjust to what he's seeing. The room is sumptuously decorated in blues and greens, like an ocean. The curtains are silky and the rug is thick and cream-colored. It's a beautiful room, one for someone who doesn't have to worry about his rent payment or whether or not his car will start.

He looks down at himself, and while he's still _big_ , he's not fat at all. His chest is large and firm, his stomach reasonably flat. The muscles are hidden by a layer of good living, true, but he can tell just by the way he feels as he stands up that he could go out jogging if he wanted. He crosses the room to the adjoining bathroom he can see through a partially open door. He hits the lights and just stares at himself. He's going silver at the temples, but his hair is still mostly hanging in there, just a little thin at the hairline and the crown.

His face looks years younger than the last time he'd faced himself at forty-two. In his previous incarnation, he might have passed for fifty, but now he's more likely to be mistaken for thirty. The most striking thing is that he looks _happy_. His eyes are bright, even early in the morning. His teeth are whiter, and his skin barely lined.

He can't wait any longer to verify what he's praying is true. He goes out to the other room, scanning the knick-knacks until he sees a photo frame on the dresser. He picks it up and immediately begins to weep, large ugly sobs that wrack his frame and burn his throat. The picture shows himself and Kurt, together, obviously taken only a few years ago, at most. And they're not alone. Kurt holds the hand of a little girl, probably about five, with sunny blonde curls and a fashionable outfit straight out of a children's catalogue. In Dave's arms is a chubby boy of about two, with matching curls and a little sweater. They're standing in front of a theater on a busy street, but Dave doesn't need to squint to read the letters. He suddenly _knows_ what they say.

Like a flood, things start coming back to him. Shaking, he sets the picture back in its place and staggers back to the bed, collapsing at the foot, holding his head as the memories assault him. He sits and lets it pour over him like a waterfall, absorbing every detail, cherishing every bit of the flood.

When it's over, he knows who he is, at last.

He's who he's always been meant to be.

He hears a noise then, and looks up. Kurt is lounging in the doorway, looking even more amazing than Dave's memories have indicated. He's wearing a velvet robe and carrying a cup of coffee which he extends in front of himself as he pads across the carpet.

"Late start this morning, darling?"

Dave has to bite his lip to keep from crying again, and Kurt immediately sets the coffee on the nightstand and sits next to him, both arms around Dave's torso. "What's wrong? Did something happen?"

"No, just… Bad dream," Dave says, trying to cover.

"Let me guess. You didn't have me, and therefore, life was bleak and not worth living?" Kurt suggests, tucking his face into the side of Dave's neck.

Dave snorts. "Yeah, pretty much."

"Silly man. You couldn't get rid of me if you tried. I'm afraid you're stuck with me forever."

Dave remembers like it was yesterday, which in a way it was, praying, 'It needs to be forever.' It seems his wish has come true.

With a shaky breath, he says, "Thanks, babe. I'm fine, I promise. It was just…. Anyway, start a bagel for me. I'm just going to grab a shirt."

Kurt leans in and kisses him hard on the mouth. "I'm on it," he says, heading back into the hallway.

"Hey, Kurt," Dave calls, and Kurt leans back into the room. "I love you."

"I love you too," Kurt says, smiling and shaking his head a little, as if he thinks Dave's being sort of silly.

Once he's gone, Dave gets up and throws on a t-shirt. He has a million questions running through his mind. He wonders if he should take notes or make a list or something. But as he's thinking this, he can hear Kurt singing in the kitchen, small voices joining in, and it suddenly seems much more important to enjoy every second he has left of his forever.

~The End


End file.
